


Justice

by Macx



Series: Fire and Ice [17]
Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2011-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The theft of a valuable object from a museum is more than it appears to be. When a bomb goes off, things turn ugly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justice

It was raining. Not just a few drops. It was a literal downpour. There was water everywhere. A car fought its way through the curtain of rain along the street that looked more like a river now, its headlights trying to pierce through the curtain of water. Hours of rain had made the road slippery and dangerous. The windshield wipers were moving at high speed, trying to get the water off the screen faster than it fell on it again. No such luck. It was impossible to tell how much the driver could see, but the best guess was, not a lot.  
Finally the car turned off the road and struggled its way up the driveway of a rather ordinary looking house. The driver gave the house a closer inspection. There was nothing at all extraordinary about it. It was outside the city, private property and stood in the middle of a rather large garden. He reached out and took the flowers lying on the passenger seat beside him, then he left the car.  
He was soaked within seconds, hair plastered to his head. He pulled his coat up around his neck in a futile attempt to keep the rain away, but it was useless. It was a cold day. The sky was gray as slate and there was no sign that it would stop raining ever. Walking around the mansion Nicholas MacKenzie muttered something rude about Canadian weather and timing. He rang the bell.  
Seconds passed.  
The rain was drumming down on him. He was shivering in the wind raging over the country-side now, biting into his skin. His hands had turned numb a second ago.  
<Your own fault> Karr rumbled in his head.  
<Shut up>  
<We could have come by on our way back>  
<I said shut up>  
<The weather forecast says it’s clearing as of next week>  
Nick slammed a block into place. Somewhere in the distance thunder rolled over the sky and even though it seemed impossible, the rain picked up. The door opened and a dark-haired woman stared at her visitor in something akin to shock. She was dressed in sweats and her hair was bound back. Paint stuck to her clothes and face.  
“You?” she exclaimed.  
Nick smiled despite the cold. “I thought I’d drop by.” He wiped water out of his eyes, a useless gesture since the rain was drumming down on him like a monsoon.  
She blinked, then gazed at the by now rather soggy flowers. “And you for once brought flowers,” Alex commented. “He can be trained, my, what a surprise.”  
Nick held up the bundle of mistreated plant life. “It was worth a try. Can I come in?” He raised one eyebrow.  
Alex chuckled. “Sorry. I was just too shocked. This is an unexpected surprise.”  
Nick stepped into the house. Alex had bought it since changing her job from being out in the wilderness into one of research closer to Vancouver. It looked nice, but there was still a lot of work to be done. Nick dripped steadily as she guided him into the almost empty living room. There were buckets of paint and a ladder.  
“Don’t move. I’ll get some towels and clothes.”  
A minute later, Nick was stripping out of the wet clothes and into some warm, dry ones. Alex had arranged the flowers in a vase and gave them a critical look.  
“I guess it’s the thought that counts.”  
Nick joined her, looking at the half-dead flowers. “I hope so.”  
She slipped an arm around his waist, leaning against him. “Nice of you to drop by. How long do I have the pleasure of your company?”  
He embraced her, smiling. “Does a week sound okay?”  
Alex scrunched her forehead up in thought. “That would do for the living room, the bedroom and most of the first floor, I guess.”  
Nick chuckled. “Bedroom sounds nice.”  
She gave him a light blow to the ribs. “Right, mister. I knew there was an ulterior motive.”  
“I only have ulterior motives.”

Outside, in the torrential rain, Karr shut down most of his major functions and settled back for some rest.

* * *

The first class cabin was silent and dark, only the reading lights shedding some brightness in the interior. It was a night flight, with most of the passengers catching a nap before their work demanded their full attention once they touched down. In one of the spacious first class seats sat a woman in her mid-thirties, her hair bound into a tight and elegant knot, dressed in a non-descript business suit. She was staring out of the small window, watching her reflection. Outside everything was dark, though she could make out the first rays of weak light crawling over the horizon. Soon they'd pass the barrier between day and night and the plane would be only a few hundred miles from its destination.  
The modern passenger plane had settled into a comfortable cruising altitude, dinner had been served a long time ago, and the flight attendants were now walking along the aisles, offering reading materials, juices, videos to watch. The woman ignored them, lost in her own thoughts. One of the flight attendants, carrying flight folders, came up to  her seat. "Would you like to watch a movie?"  
Her smile was cool, professional.  
The woman summoned up a smile herself which was as cold and professional as that of the flight attendant.  
"No, thank you," she declined the offer, already turning away again.  
The attendant remained. "Would you consider documentaries?" she inquired, her voice a bit more persistent to the trained ear.  
The woman turned back to look at her, her blue eyes fixed on her still perfectly charming face. The flight attendant leaned closer, taking an unlabeled video tape out of the small box she was carrying like a tray of goods.  
"This one, perhaps?" she asked and held the tape out to her.  
She didn't say a word. The flight attendant took her reaction as a positive answer and passed a sensor pen over the small label on the side of the tape. She then handed it to her passenger, who took it gingerly, like it was a bomb going off any second. She watched the attendant move on in the aisle, asking the other passengers who were awake if they wanted a movie or magazine.  
The woman popped the cassette into the video tape player. Then she raised the personal view screen. She angled the screen away from the cabin, so that no one could see anything, then slid the headphones over her ears. She pushed the 'play' button.  
"I thought long and hard about the little deal you want to make," a male voice said, but there was no picture appearing on the screen. "Your chances of succeeding are minimal, but they are not non-existent." She smiled coldly. "I am interested and your prices are reasonable. If this fails, there will be no connections."  
With that the tape stopped and the woman took off the ear phones. The first rays of light shot over the horizon, touching the white plane as it banked to begin its approach of the L.A. airport.

* * *

The Museum of Native Art was rather crowded, though unlike on normal days when people in everyday clothes with their children pushed past the exhibits, this was different. This was a special night, with red carpets, speeches and everyone dressed in either a tux or a very expensive dress. Tonight was the night of the rich and powerful to make an appearance, donate money, and see to it that they were seen. That there was also a remarkable artifact exhibited in these ancient halls was rather secondary.  
Michael had no difficulty making out where the special Toudu exhibition was that had been the main reason for this reception. A lot of people were going straight toward the expensive attraction of the new wing the museum had opened, and he simply drifted along. He looked around and let his eyes wander over the various exhibits. There were models, ancient sculptures, maps to show where everything had been found, explanations concerning the myths and rites of the Toudu, drawings and lots of other items.  
His eyes came to rest on a young woman standing beside a particularly ugly statue of some kind of god. She was a red-head, with a slightly tanned skin, which made her appear somewhat unusual. Most red-heads, Michael knew, were rather pale. Her eyes were dark and she had a somewhat exotic look. Something made Michael think that she had dyed her hair.  
//Michael...// Kitt chided through the link.  
He smiled. //Only checking the guests, pal, only checking//  
//You are not on security detail//  
//Ah, well, they always appreciate help//  
Kitt sent his mild disbelief and the simple reminder that he was already involved with someone.  
"It's amazing, isn't it?"  
Michael turned to where the voice had come from and smiled at the elder woman in the rather moderate looking dress. If he recalled correctly, she was a Board member as well. Lady Martha Summers-Smythe. He gave her a charming smile, then looked at what she had been referring to.  
It was some kind of a scepter or a staff covered with ornaments and stones. It wasn't large and neither was it particularly beautiful in Michael's eyes. The staff was a deep black, as if the wood had darkened with age. Someone had carved complicated figures into the staff and adorned it with splinters of red and green stones. On top of the staff sat an orange-colored stone, which could be a fake or a real gem, either of which was possible.  
"The scepter of Ebre," Michael read.  
"The scepter of Ebre is believed to be a powerful tool of medicine by the Toudu priests," Lady Martha explained. "The stones adorning the staff are pieces of colored lava and the stone on the top is a rare kind of gem, which is worthless, but in the myths of Toudu believed to hold magical powers."  
"Ah."  
Kitt laughed in his head.  
"It's the main attraction."  
Yes, he had read about it. Kitt laughed more and he muttered something uncomplimentary through the link.  
"I can see that."  
Lady Martha gave him a knowing smile. "Not your kind of preferred evening, I take it, Mr. Knight."  
That caught him off guard. Apparently, his dislike of any kind of suit-and-tie evenings was well known. "Not really, no," he confessed.  
She smiled. "To tell the truth, neither are they mine, but that's social responsibilities and duties for you. Have you met the dignitaries yet?"  
He nodded. It had been a general shaking of hands, smiles, and an exchange of pleasantries.  
"Well, enjoy yourself, Mr. Knight." She swept off into the crowd and was soon talking to someone else.  
Michael suddenly caught sight of the red-head again. She was looking his way, her dark eyes intense and nothing like Michael had expected. He looked quickly away and focused entirely on the scepter. She made him feel uneasy. When he looked again, the woman had disappeared. Oh well....  
Walking along the exhibits, he nodded at some people he recognized, then he fled into a thankfully empty corridor that seemed to lead deeper into the building.  
//How much longer?// he sighed.  
//It's not even past nine, Michael// Kitt said reproachfully.  
Hours. Hours still to go! Well, he had to do this. He was still driving the Foundation's prized creation, the Knight Industries Two Thousand, he was expected to be here and 'represent'. That the car contained a wonderfully warm and full personality wasn’t generally known. Many had heard about a ‘computer controlled car’, that was it. Michael had given up on trying to explain what Kitt was.  
//Where's Nick?//  
//Mingling//  
Michael smiled and walked through a room almost empty of people.  
Suddenly the world around him exploded into bright orange flames and dark clouds of smoke. Michael felt himself lifted off his feet and flung through the room. He connected with something hard but pliable and the wind was knocked out of him. He heard a loud ringing and shook his head. Dizziness swamped him and as he concentrated, he realized that the ringing was that of an alarm. Smoke drifted all around him, people were screaming in panic and somewhere more explosions could be heard. Michael groaned softly as he felt a twinge of pain from his left arm. He gritted his teeth and managed to get to his feet, though swaying badly. He could barely see anything because of the thick smoke and he smelled and heard fires close by. Shapeless shadows were running all around, someone was crying.  
Bomb....  
Someone had set off a bomb.  
Another explosion rocked the building.  
Michael stumbled away from the wooden ornament he had crashed into and looked around. Total devastation greeted him... and it was not over yet.

*

Nick had been busy avoiding getting involved in any kind of small talk. He had had his share and done his duty. He wasn't representing the Foundation or Knight Industries; he was here to keep his ears to the ground and his eyes open. Dressed in his black suit, he now leaned against a stone pillar and surveyed the guests. Rich, powerful and full of themselves. He sipped at his fruit juice. Self-important and unaware of the real world around them, unless it intruded into their perfection. He smiled humorlessly. Sometimes, he was the real world because he took what someone paid him to steal. Recently, his business had been rather straight. No industrial espionage, but some moderate hacking and erasing of data tracks. Michael didn't know about most of his jobs, but he was sure his friend suspected.  
Checking the time, Nick calculated how much longer Michael had to 'represent' until he could safely make a quick exit. It would be a few more hours. Well, he might just make the best of it and have a look around.  
<Watch out, you might catch something contagious> Karr rumbled in his mind. <Like education>  
He smiled again and placed the glass on a waiter's half empty tray. Slowly making his way around the exhibition cases, he let his eyes run over the little cardboard and plastic cards displaying the name and origin of each artifact. Nick wasn't the museum type, but he had visited a few in his past. Mostly through the roof, at night, hanging by a thin cord and stealing things. But he had still enjoyed those visits.  
He had also enjoyed a week at Alex’s new place and they had managed to get a lot of work done. The week had helped him unwind and as always, Nick felt a lot better and not so tense after some time in the normal world.  
And then something exploded. There was a moment of deafening sound, then the screams of people, bodies rushing past him, shoving.  
<Karr!> he yelled.  
<An explosive device went up at the southwest corner of the new wing> was the answer.  
Nick cursed under his breath. What the heck was going on here? Explosives? In a museum? Shit! Fire had broken out and he fought against the people desperately fighting for a way out.  
<Fire crews are on the way> Karr informed him.  
<Michael?>  
<Kitt says he's still in the building. Dr. Barstow was pushed out with the first wave of fugitives>  
<Devon?>  
<Unknown>  
There was a new explosion, this time of air meeting fire, and Nick could feel the flames engulfing him, the heat searing into his lungs. He hadn't gone more than a few feet when the room suddenly seemed to implode. Nick felt lifted in the air, weightless, slamming into a wall. Everything went black, the breath knocked out of him. For a brief moment there was complete silence. Then, with a deafening roar, sound returned - the snapping of the fire overhead, the ominous creaking of the building's roof and walls. Flaming pieces rained down on him. Nick tried to get up, but his legs slipped out from under him. Blood ran from multiple wounds in his face.  
He coughed, smoke clogging his lungs and stinging in his eyes. He felt the heat of a fire close by and tears obscured his sight. The bomb had gone off somewhere close to him, throwing him around like a rag doll, and he felt bruises form all over his back. He managed to stagger to his feet, tears still stinging his eyes. He could barely make out the immediate surroundings and it was getting worse. The lights had apparently gone out and his sight was blurry in the ever-decreasing twilight.  
And then a voice called his name.

*

Michael was stumbling through the smoke-filled museum, half falling, half crawling into a room. The smoke cleared somewhat and he blinked, wiping the tears away. He was in a room that was miraculously unscathed by fire, but there were signs of the bomb's effects. Cracks ran through the walls and ceiling.  
"Nick!" he coughed as he discovered his friend.  
Nick turned and was about to say something when another shape fell through the open door. Jennifer, Michael realized. Covered in soot, hair in disarray, looking frightened.  
"Get me out of here!" she yelled, voice shrill.  
Another explosion let the very floor shake and Michael looked around. They definitely had to get out of here! Then the rumbling started. There was nowhere to run or hide. He looked up and realized the ceiling directly above them was starting to come down. Chunks were already dropping. His mind was working overtime as he realized what would happen.  
"It's gonna give!" he yelled and tackled Jennifer, shoving her out of the way, just as the building came crashing down around them.

* * *

Sometimes, blocks saved a lot of trouble and pain. Sometimes they were a pain themselves. Karr was an AI who appreciated blocks because they saved him a lot of confusion if Nick lost control of his emotions, which happened more often than an outsider might believe. Nick could appear like a block of ice on the outside, but inside, there was a tightly controlled volcano. As Alex could attest to, he thought wryly. Now and then, the partners dropped their blocks, came closer to the other mind, and it was beautiful. No longer awkward like years back, but natural.  
The exhibition and grand opening had been an occasion to put up a block. Karr was bored and Nick was trying not to show it. Official receptions weren't their normal routine, but sometimes Nick decided to show up and remind people he was still alive. And that Karr was equally still there. The Board was aware of their presence and their involvement in FLAG affairs, but it was always good to rub their noses in it. Karr felt a perverse kind of satisfaction watching them point his way, whisper among themselves and avoid coming too close. Kitt always chided him, but there was still amusement in his brother's tone. About the only one who dared come close was John Landes and only when Nick was there as well.  
Sitting in the car park of the museum, Karr boredly watched people mill outside in the warm evening air, holding glasses of champagne, talking, having a good time. Nick was inside, milling around, talking with Knight, and watching Jennifer Knight. As always, she was present as well. The loss of her accounts had made a considerable dent in her life and she was now an official employee of Knight Industries. She had managed to scrounge up money from everywhere and he had to hand it to her, she knew how to whine.  
The explosion had come out of the blue. One moment there were the sounds of people at a party, the next a deafening boom, followed by sound of glass breaking and screams. The rumble of the old building giving in to the force of the explosion rolled over the car park, people were crying and yelling for help, shocked late arrivals were staring at the incredible cloud of dust rising from the building.  
Karr was stunned for a fraction of a second, then his scanners came to life and he processed the flood of data coming in. Automatically, he opened the link to his brother and the two AIs worked simultaneously, like a well-oiled machinery.  
Conversation with Nick was done by brief, almost brisk, burst of information though the link. Then the next explosion took out the rest of the museum wing and Nick's side of the link was suddenly a mass of pain, then confusion and the shivering waves of blackness of approaching unconsciousness. Karr forced himself past the cold blackness and caught hold of Nick's waning consciousness. He wordlessly wrapped himself around the fading presence and Nick sent an incoherent thought.  
<Another explosion> was all Karr could tell him.  
Pain hit him again, then Nick slipped.  
<_Michael is unconscious, Kitt told him, sounding balanced and in control of himself.  
Karr felt a wave of pride. The other AI had learned a lot about control and shields. He wouldn't lose it immediately and he had his wits about him. He went for the data, coolly walking through what had come in. The explosion had damaged the museum building at three specific points, all around the grand hall. He would have to get closer to analyze what it had been. Part of the hall had collapsed inward and the floor had given way. People were running around, crying and calling for help. Police cruisers were stopping close by, the fire crew had arrived, and some helpers were trying to aide the injured.  
Karr checked Nick again, found him still unconscious, and, leaving a tendril of himself attached to Nick, turned to Kitt.  
<_Anything else?  
With the data transfer going on between them, each AI knew what the other was receiving.  
<_No. Michael's still unconscious. Nick?  
<_The same. We have to wait.  
At least their human counterparts were still alive.

* * *

Devon blinked dust out of his eyes, trying to get his bearings. His ears were ringing with the aftershocks of the explosion that had thrown him clear across the room, and he felt his head pound in rhythm to his heartbeat.  
Heartbeat.  
Good. That meant he wasn't dead. He groaned softly. But he sure felt like it. Staggering to his feet he tried to find out where he was. Suddenly there was someone approaching him through the thick cloud of dust and smoke, and he blinked again.  
"Michael?" His voice was raspy and it hurt to talk.  
The figure coalesced into a firefighter with a breathing mask over his face.  
"Sir? Stay where you are!" he ordered.  
Devon coughed. Strong hands took his arms and he was gently pushed the way the firefighter had come. An oxygen mask was placed over his face and he coughed again as the clear air battled the smoke in his lungs.  
"Where are...." he whispered. "Michael? Bonnie?"  
"Stay calm," the firefighter told him, looking around to check on dangerous falling debris or fires.  
Devon stumbled and the man's arms tightened around his waist. They cleared the building -- or what was left of it -- a minute later and a paramedic took hold of the swaying man immediately, guiding him over to a waiting ambulance.  
As he looked around, Devon discovered at least five units of firefighters trying to get a fire under control, which had broken out at the rear of the museum. A seemingless endless row of ambulances were parked close by and police was keeping nosy sightseers away. The complete back of the building had collapsed, nothing but a heap of rubble now, and the front showed severe damage.  
"Devon!"  
Relief raced through him as he discovered the rather disheveled figure in the dark blue evening dress, which now looked like it wouldn't be more than an old rag in the future. "Bonnie!"  
"Have you seen Michael? Or Nick?"  
"No. Maybe they are with the other ambulances."  
There were so many people here, all trying to find friends and family, and between them, police and firefighters.  
"Kitt," Bonnie mumbled, looking over the parking lot. "He'd know." She stumbled off.  
Devon tried to rise, but the paramedic treating him pushed him back down. It was a good idea because he was suddenly feeling dizzy.

* * *

Nick came around in darkness. He knew his eyes were open, but there was no light. Sound was no problem, just sight. Around him, there was the creaking of stones, the distant rumble of a building under strain, and very close by, someone moaned. Nick felt a mind-link touch and turned to meet Karr's inquiring presence at the other end.  
<'m fine>  
<You are not>  
Of course not, but he had been injured before. <Situation?>  
<You and Knight are trapped in a room under the exhibits. The floor gave way after the last explosion>  
<Thought as much> Nick sat up, dizziness hitting him. His head hurt, his face hurt, his hands felt like he had burns... and the cursed lights were out!  
Karr moved closer and a second, Nick had the disturbing feeling of his partner being right next to him in his head, looking through his eyes. It was something they could do, but it freaked him and Karr refrained from coming that close anyway. Why now?  
<The lights work>  
The words sank in and Nick felt part of him suddenly slip and slide, then he caught himself. Blind. The explosion had been close, but he must have hit his head somewhere. He felt over the tender, burned skin and explored the blood-crusted left temple. He knew that a blow to the head could cause blindness, but so could a sudden explosion into his face.  
A shiver coursed through him.

The noise inside had been deafening. Then it was suddenly silent. Michael lay still for a minute trying to catch his breath. He was buried beneath parts of the ceiling and the air was thick with dust, making it difficult for him to catch his breath. The dust caused him to go into a painful coughing spell. When he was finally able to breathe again, he decided it was time to free himself. He slowly made his way out from under the rubble.  
This wasn't fun and he hurt. He remembered very clearly what had happened and he recalled that Nick and Jennifer had been there, too. His first sight as he opened his eyes, was a wall of rubble and some very large pieces of the museum lying close by. Kitt sat next to him in his mind, smiling gently, giving him the necessary time to rearrange his severely shaken head.  
//Kitt.... what happened?//  
//The last explosion let you crash through the floor. You are currently located in a former storage room of the museum's basement//  
Now that sounded encouraging.  
//Firefighters and police have arrived//  
//Bonnie and Devon?//  
//Bonnie is with me and she said Devon only has a bump on the head and some bruises. She is worried//  
Michael managed to get his wrist in sight and sighed as he discovered that the com-link had taken a bad fall with him. It was smashed.  
Should put MBS on that as well, he thought dryly.  
//Karr tells me that Nick is awake, but there is a problem//  
Michael got himself in a sitting position and looked around the dimly lit room. Miraculously, the emergency bulbs were working. Thank god for little favors. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw she was in a pocket about 20 x 15 feet. The room was held open by the debris around him and two single emergency lights had stayed intact to spread light. Nick was sitting with his back against the other wall, eyes closed. From his position, Michael saw cuts and bruises, as well as burns on his face and hands.  
"Nick?" he called.  
His friend turned his head, eyes still closed. There was a faint smile on his lips, but something inside Michael screamed an alarm.  
"Hey."  
//Kitt?// he asked, dread in his voice.  
//Nick's blind//  
He was frozen in shock for a moment. //What?!//  
//Karr told me// Kitt’s voice had a slightly shaky undercurrent. //He’s not in a good mood//  
A soft moan alerted Michael to the third person in the room. Jennifer Knight. She was buried under a large pile of debris that mainly pinned her legs and lower back down. Michael crawled over to her and checked the pulse. It was fairly strong, but rapid. Frowning, he gazed at the unconscious woman, then started to slowly check on her condition. What he found were numerous cuts and bruises, all of which were not too bad. There was a big bruise on her face, as well as a cut at her hairline that had stopped bleeding now. Blood caked her hair. Then he discovered the red flecks on the stone close to Jennifer’s legs and bent closer. There was blood. Lots of it.  
Michael sat back, cursing softly.  
“Not good, hm?” Nick asked conversationally.  
“Could be better. How are you?”  
“Kitt hasn’t told you the good news?”  
Michael grimaced and crouched down next to his friend. There were some superficial burns, several cuts crusted with blood, and a very sizable wound on Nick’s left temple. It was also crusted with dry blood, but it had bled a lot before closing. Michael touched it carefully, but Nick snatched his hand with almost scary precision.  
“Leave it. I know it’s there and it hurts.”  
Another groan from Jennifer drew his attention to her.  
“She’s waking,” Nick said. “Not good.”  
Michael had to agree. She had to be in pain and pain was better dealt with while the patient was unconscious.

Jennifer Knight woke to the sensation of someone touching her. Her blurry mind registered those touches that seemed to cover her whole body. When one hand of the stranger worked along her leg upwards she opened her eyes abruptly, her hands flailing in the direction she guessed the stranger was. Her hands were caught and she tried to struggle, but suddenly there was nothing but pain. She heard someone cry out and she thought it was her.  
"Jennifer!"  
A male voice drifted through her muzzy mind and she concentrated on it, knowing it was familiar.  
"Jennifer! It's okay!" the voice continued, pulling her attention to it.  
Opening her eyes again a pale face swam into focus. A pair of well-known eyes looked worriedly at her.  
"Michael?" Aghast she noticed how weak her voice sounded.  
A smile split the pale face into halves. She could see soot and dust clinging to it and the hair, as well as bruises and cuts leaking blood.  
"Welcome back to the land of the living."  
"What... happened.... where....?" It was hard to talk. The pain made it nearly impossible and she felt tears spring to her eyes. Angrily, she pulled herself together.  
"Looks like someone set off a bomb and we broke through the floor."  
"Bomb...?"  
"No idea. Nick suspects there were several."  
Jennifer tried to turn her head but the pain was too much. "He's.. here...?"  
"He is," MacKenzie's voice drifted over to her. There was a tightness in it that she couldn't place.  
Blackness threatened to swallow her and Jennifer felt herself dragged into the bottomless hole. The pain reverted to a mere numb impression somewhere far back in her mind as she drifted into unconsciousness.

*

Michael sat with his back to the cold wall of their prison.  Because it was exactly what it was: a prison.  There were walls around them, except for one side, but the partially open doorway lead nowhere.  It was a dead end, a way blocked by a wall of debris. He turned his head and his stomach clenched into an icy knot as he looked at Jennifer Knight. She was still unconscious and there was a lot of blood. She had a severe scalp wound that had bled profoundly, and the fractures had been only too easy to feel. Her dress was torn in several places. He didn't even want to think about internal injuries.  
A wave of pain from his own injuries, the least being the scrapes and bruises, reminded him that he hadn't been lucky either.  His leg had been injured when he had broken through the floor. The cut had stopped bleeding and the dried blood was gluing his pant leg to the skin. Nick, who was silently sitting beside him, had miraculously come away with no serious open wounds, but his eyes... Michael felt his gaze drawn to the piece of cloth wrapped around Nick's eyes. There were burns and Nick couldn't see anything.  
//Kitt?// he sent tiredly.  
The white presence hugged him tightly, never far away, but not too close to smother him. //I'm here// his partner reassured him.  
Michael smiled. Yes, Kitt would always be there for him. //How's the rescue coming along?//  
//Slowly. The building structure has been compromised and most of the new wing collapsed on where you are//  
//Oh//  
//But they are working fast and efficiently// Kitt supplied.  
He sighed. Right now, all he could do was wait.

Nick was calmness incarnate on the outside, but inside he was screaming in pain and frustration. He knew that the blow to his head had most likely caused the blindness, and he was praying it was only temporary. His world would end if it turned out to be permanent.  
<Wait for the doctors> Karr said calmly.  
He was residing in the back of Nick's mind, anchored firmly, not leaving his partner alone. It wasn't a deep link like Michael and Kitt so often shared, but it was their way of being close without crowding the other. Nick was thankful for Karr's presence, but he felt helpless.  
<You are not> Karr objected.  
<So tell me what I can do when I'm blind!> he snapped angrily. <Everything would be gone!>  
<For now, you can wait to be rescued>  
Nick trembled briefly and Karr came closer, offering. He pulled himself together, but the silky black presence stayed. He couldn't be blind. Blind meant vulnerable and he knew that if word got out, he'd be dead soon.  
<Nick> Karr chided softly. <You don't know if it's permanent. And there are ways to help you. Technological ways>  
<Sorry> he whispered and accepted the brief, intense hug.  
He was falling to pieces and no one but Karr saw it. <And no one will know> his partner said softly.  
He smiled weakly, aware of the real world outside, where Michael was trying to find a way out, where Jennifer Knight lay badly injured. She was in pain. He didn't have to see her to know it. Her breathing was labored, now and then she moaned softly or there was a sudden intake of breath, and she hadn't said a word. Nick would have relished the silence, but it meant she was in a bad shape. Not that he was any better off. He was blind.  
<Hopefully she's dead when this is over> a dark voice growled in his head.  
<Now, Karr....>  
A rumble echoed through his mind. Karr had no friendly feelings for Jennifer Knight at all.  
Someone approached. "Nick?"  
It was Michael. He sounded tired, strained, and Nick could emphasize with him. He was the only one of them still on his feet and able to see things. Rescue was on the way, it would take time. Time they didn't have; time Jennifer didn't have. He didn't ask how Nick was feeling. Blindness wasn't cured while sitting in a collapsed room.  
"Anything?"  
Stupid question, actually. Karr had told him that the fire crews had arrived, that police was present, that everyone was running around and trying to solve this dilemma. If he strained his ears, he could hear faint noises, probably from the work crews, but there was also the creaking and groaning of strained building structure.  
"Kitt says they are encountering difficulties. Looks like the building's about to give, so they are trying a different approach."  
Nick nodded. Karr had told him the same before. "How is she?"  
"Lost a lot of blood, she's in and out of consciousness, and I think her spine's damaged."  
He grimaced. This didn't sound good at all. Even if they got her out alive, she might wish she were dead. Karr rumbled again. He felt no compassion.  
"I tried to find a way out, but the door's no more and though there is a small opening, I doubt we could get Jennifer through without making it worse."  
"Could you get through?"  
Nick could almost imagine Michael's frown. "Yes, but....  
"Then try it. You might get closer to the surface. Nothing's going to happen here."  
There was a short silence.  
"And I'll keep an eye on her," Nick added with a wry smile.  
"Very funny, MacKenzie." Michael sighed.  
"Thought so myself."  
Michael hesitated a bit longer, then he finally nodded. Aware that Nick couldn't see him, he muttered, "Okay, I'll try."  
"Good. Since Kitt and Karr are in contact, so will we be."  
It was the only bright side Michael saw. He left the room and stepped into the small antechamber, studying the opening that would allow a grown man to squeeze through, if he was close to starved and a pygmy. He started to widen the crack.

* * *

Kitt was watching the barely visible presence of his brother through their link. Karr’s attention was riveted to Nick’s side of the link and he was watching over him like a hawk. Kitt had to smile slightly at the display of affection, worry and care. Even after such a long time, Karr would deny outright that he felt anything toward his partner but respect and the necessity to keep him in one piece because of backlash. Some chosen few knew the opposite was true and right now, Karr was as tense as a wire and ready to snap. Nick was blind, injured and trapped. It was getting to him. Both AIs were completely helpless and it was something that was gnawing at Kitt as well. The multiple times Michael had been in danger, he had always been there to help one way or another. This time, he could only wait.  
<_What is taking them so long? Karr snarled and the ebony spark rippled angrily.  
<_They have to make sure not to hurt our partners.  
If Karr had been human, he would have paced, an angry scowl on his face.  
<_Nick will be all right, Kitt soothed.  
Karr snapped around, growling. <_I know that. He always is all right! Whatever happens! But he’s blind!  
Whoa. Kitt blinked. Karr’s emotions concerning this topic were rather strong. Nick was a stubborn human and he would call a bullet wound a scratch, but he also knew his limits. Currently, he had apparently reached them. Kitt wondered what he would feel if it had been Michael, and he shivered at the thought. He simply snaked a tendril toward his brother and wrapped it firmly around a thin strand of darkness. Karr didn’t say a thing, but neither did he try to pull away.

* * *

Time passed. In his own, personal darkness, it seemed like eternity. Karr kept track of real time, but Nick’s mind was distracted. His partner was trying to help him, in his own way, but right now, there was nothing he could do.  
Nick heard a moan and wondered how long Jennifer still had until she went critical. Shock had already settled in and she was in severe pain. Blood loss was another factor and he didn't know about internal injuries aside from the broken ribs Michael had palpated. From the painfully raspy breathing, Nick guessed one lung must have been nicked. He was no expert, but he had enough medical knowledge to make an assessment.  
"It won't get much better," Nick said calmly.  
"Must... be... a... pleasure," she managed.  
"Not exactly. I had different plans." He sat back but didn't increase his distance from her.  
"Why are you... still here?"  
"The service is good and the rates are okay."  
"MacKenzie..." she snarled.  
Nick smiled. Well, she wasn't that far gone yet.  
<Too bad> Karr muttered.  
<Have a heart, partner>  
<I don't have one> the AI returned coldly. <I'm a machine. And I don't take pity on her either>  
Nick sent a smile, then carefully leaned his head back against the wall behind him. His head throbbed and his eyes hurt. He knew there was damage to the skin around his eyes and he had burned his arms. Karr briefly brushed over him in an attempt of mental comfort. He gazed at him in his mind, currently the only way of seeing anything.  
<Where's Michael?>  
<Kitt says he found a tunnel and Kitt's trying to track him through the rubble. It's difficult. He's making moderate progress and the fire crew has been told. They are trying to get through at another point>  
He sighed deeply and was about to rub his forehead, then thought better of it. Instead, he ran a hand through his dirty hair, wincing as he encountered a cut. More bruises ran down his neck and shoulders. Karr touched him once more, trying to comfort. For the last two hours, small panic attacks had threatened to overwhelm the normally so cold and level mind, and Nick was unable to deal with them. He was blind. It was the worst, aside from paralysis, that could happen to him. Karr was simply there, not saying anything; he was there and that was enough. Nick smiled at the close-by darkness and accepted the support.

Jennifer was in pain. She couldn't seem to remember a time without it. Her gaze traveled to the man at her side and she took a strange kind of security out of his presence, despite the fact that she hated him with a passion. Nicholas MacKenzie was and had always been a thorn in her side. Her had prevented her from selling Kitt or even killing the cursed machine. Now he was trapped like her. Her eyes settled on the smudged bandage over his eyes and the burned skin that peeked out from under it. The blast had scorched his face. There were burns on his clothes down to the skin as well. The visible half of his face displayed exhaustion and pain.  
"Was it you?" she asked.  
A wry smile passed over his lips. "My dear Ms. Knight, if I had planned this, I'd have thought of something more personal than a bomb. And give me more credit than to be where my own weapon would turn against me."  
She knew he was serious. MacKenzie didn't joke about this. She was aware that there was no one holding him back and he had no moral problems either. This was because of Knight. If Knight left forever, when the contract ran out, she would rank among the free for all. Jennifer closed her eyes as pain lanced through her.  
Not good. Not good at all. She couldn't feel her legs, which might be better anyway. She had trouble breathing and her left hand was badly burned. Jennifer knew she needed help, but there was no help forthcoming. They were alone. Michael had been here, but she had taken little comfort out of his presence. He hated her; it was personal. MacKenzie simply regarded her beneath him; for him, she was what came with the job.  
Closing her eyes, Jennifer wished she could just doze off, sleep, or even slide into unconsciousness.

* * *

He was in the basement. The whole damn floor had broken when the ceiling had caved in, and they had fallen into the lowest level of the museum. Kitt had been right. Where the corridor had once been, only a pile of rubble greeted Michael's sight. From one trap into the next. He felt like screaming out his frustration.  
He started an investigation into the corridor and found that even though there was a wall of debris in front of him, there were cracks. He might be able to dig his way through. Michael went to work and tried to widen the crack to squeeze through. His body complained mightily because of the exertion, all the little injuries flaring with pain. He tried to remove an offending metal beam, but it was too heavy. He clenched his teeth as something in his shoulder seemed to pull lose and he briefly slumped against the pile of rubble. The beam was the only thing between him and whatever was behind this wall! Frustrated, he put his whole weight into it, then hissed in pain as his shoulder flared in agony.  
But the beam started to move. He shoved again and suddenly he slid forward, and down the other side of the pile of rubble. For a moment, there was only the pain in his body, then he started to cough as dust rose and finally settled around him.  
//Michael?// Kitt sounded worry.  
//I'm okay//  
//I'm barely able to make out your position due to the interference, but I think you are in the corridor leading to the stairs next to the freight elevator//  
//Is that good or bad?//  
//I've relayed the information to the fire crew and they think they can break through there//  
//So it's good//  
//Only if the wall doesn't fold under the pressure//  
//You're such a little ray of sunshine//  
//Thank you, Michael//  
//How's Nick?//  
//No change, but I think Jennifer is declining rapidly now. Karr mentioned as much, though he didn't sound very disturbed or worried about it//  
And Karr wouldn't. The other AI would be the first to run Jennifer over if someone told him she was a free for all. He had no reservations.  
//I relayed that information as well and a medical team is standing by//  
//Thanks, pal// Michael looked down the dark corridor. Then he started to carefully walk down it. If there was a way to the stairs, he'd have to find it.

* * *

Bonnie clutched the coffee like it was her last link with sanity. She stared at the museum through Kitt's windscreen, eyes unfocused. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but now and then a shiver raced through her. Kitt had offered to turn up the heat if she closed the door, but she had declined. The firefighters had come back with no good news, but the news hadn't been bad either. Several air pockets had been located in the basement and no bodies had been found so far. Some people had been rescued from the debris. Good news. Very good news.  
Kitt kept her updated on Michael, who was currently trying to get somewhere the firefighters could safely enter the basement area that had trapped him, Nick and Jennifer. He was injured, though none too seriously, but he was trapped. Nick had been blinded. Karr was completely silent and Kitt had only remarked that he wasn't in a good mood. Understandable. The Stealth was parked right next to him and Bonnie could have touched it with her outstretched foot. Karr had no scanner and he had no other external ways to show Bonnie he was 'in there', but she somehow felt that the AI was completely fixed on the collapsed museum wing.  
Devon, who now featured a large band-aid on his forehead and had declined a ride to the hospital, walked over to her.  
"Bonnie?"  
She didn't react.  
"Bonnie."  
This time there was a little flinch. "Anything?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the building.  
"No," was the soft answer.  
"I feel so useless!"  
Devon shook his head. "No, you are not. I feel the same, but there is nothing we can do until they find a way down there."  
Suddenly there was a lot of commotion and Devon strained to see past the bulk.  
"Michael! They found him!" Kitt exclaimed, startling them both.  
Bonnie was out of the car and running in a second.

* * *

The newspapers had splashed the story of the bombs all over their front pages and TV reporters were running interviews with the people at the scene over and over again. There was speculation that it had been an attack by radical groups, or an attempt on the life of the Toudu delegation, but there was no evidence.  
Michael watched the door close after the doctor who had examined them and sighed. He knew the woman wasn’t happy about their decision not to stay another day, but there was actually nothing seriously wrong with them, except that Nick was blind and Michael had a stitched cut on his leg. Otherwise, they were just sore and bruised. They had been kept under observation throughout the remainder of the night and as long as it took them to get the papers signed in the morning. Nick had verbally fought the doctor over it, but in the end she had threatened to sit on him if he didn’t shut up and wait for the complete set of results. They had even managed to catch some sleep in the ten hours they had spent in the double room.  
Both would return home to the warehouse the moment the papers were cleared now. Of course, leaving was a risk, but Michael, like Nick, wasn’t inclined to spend another night in the hospital. He knew it was medical policy to keep a patient under observation after he had been unconscious longer than twenty minutes. It was a wise decision. Still, he was itching to leave and Nick was just not the hospital type.  
"Why?"  
Nick turned his head, sightless eyes seeking out the source of the question. There were gauze pads over his eyes and a bandage around his head. The red skin that was still visible and he was taking painkillers. The doctors had told him that physically, his eyes were okay. He could see light and dark, but he had a problem with focusing and the doctor who had examined him had explained that it had been the blow to the head. His vision should return within the next days. If not, he would have to come back. To keep his eyes from straining themselves too much and keep the headaches down, Nick would have to leave the bandage for at least the next two days.  
"Three bombs went off, took out most of the new wing, destroyed the exhibition, but there seem to have been no thefts and no one was killed. Why?"  
Kitt had kept him updated on the forensics, which was by now going at full speed. It was three in the afternoon already. The fires were out, the police had declared the museum a crime scene and off limits, and the real investigation had started.  
"No one’s been killed yet," Nick corrected.  
Michael grimaced, though he knew his friend couldn't see it. Jennifer Knight was critical and her chances were rapidly declining despite the doctor's best efforts. Even if she survived, she would be paralyzed. Her spine was crushed. Michael had few friendly feelings for her, but that was something he wouldn't have wished on the woman. A quick death maybe, but not this.  
"Well, anyway, going over the guest list there are possible reasons as to why someone might set a bomb, but it's too vague. The bombs went off where none of the targets would actually walk around. The effect was frightening and destroyed a lot of property. But if not for us, no one would have been hurt."  
He pulled on his shoes and watched Nick slowly pull a sweater over his head. He had managed to dress himself almost completely without any help. Bonnie had been the one to bring them both fresh clothes this morning and Michael was thankful for it.  
"Maybe that was the intent." Nick’s voice sounded slightly muffled under the sweater.  
Michael snorted. "We were the targets?"  
"Stands to reason. Nothing was stolen."  
"Something was," a voice said and both men turned. Michael's eyes went wide as he recognized the red-haired, dark-skinned woman from the exhibition. The door closed almost noiselessly after her and she leaned against the wall. "Ann-Marie Mato," she added. "Agent of his Majesty the Prince of Toudu."  
Nick tilted his head a fraction. "What was stolen?" he asked.  
"The scepter of Ebre."  
Michael's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I read the police report. The scepter was found undamaged in the broken display case."  
"Apparently."  
"Meaning?"  
Ms. Mato gave them both a close look. "I was informed by Mr. Miles that you can be trusted," she said. "The Board of Directors of Knight Industries and the Foundation want your involvement." She gazed thoughtfully at Nick. "We have secured all exhibits and our experts have determined that the scepter is a fake."  
Nick didn't say anything, Michael just stared at her. "A fake?"  
"Someone must have stolen it throughout the confusion and replaced it with a fake."  
"Or before," Nick remarked.  
"Impossible. The security protocols were personally checked by me. No one could break in."  
"There is never a one hundred percent certainty," MacKenzie replied calmly.  
Mato gazed at him again and Michael could have sworn that Nick was looking her straight in the eyes. "No one," she repeated, "could have broken in."  
There was no reply, just a faint smile.  
"And you immediately saw that the scepter is a fake?" Michael now asked.  
"Our experts had to look for damage to the artifacts. That's how it was discovered."  
"I'd like to see the reports."  
Mato gave Nick another strange look. A blind man asking to read reports; it apparently confused her. "I have them with me," she said after five seconds of pause.  
"So what do you want us to do?" Michael asked as he took the file from her.  
"The Board asked us to cooperate finding the thief. His Majesty has ordered me to see that matters are solved and the scepter found."  
Nick nodded slowly. "Which means you keep us updated on everything, correct, Ms. Mato?"  
"Correct."  
"Can we keep the file?"  
She nodded. "I have a meeting with His Majesty." Ann-Marie handed Michael a small card. "If you need to reach me, call. I'm expecting to hear of your progress, gentlemen." And then she left again.  
Michael looked at Nick, who had his head tilted, listening. "Is it me or did this sound like she's ordering us around?" he finally asked.  
A fine smile stole over Nick's lips. "I think Ms. Mato is trying to keep us out of her case, that's all."  
Michael flipped through the file. It was full of scribbled notes, computer prints, damage report and close-ups of the scepter. It was all Greek to him.  
"We need to examine the scepter," Nick said thoughtfully.  
"What for?"  
"I want to know what's it made of." He felt for the jogging shoes Bennie had stuffed in his bag.  
Michael absent-mindedly shoved them under his questing fingers. "Says here it's wood and a glass stone."  
"Burns?"  
"Moderate, but it was charred. The fake gem had cracks in it."  
"And they had to run it through a science lab to tell it's a fake?"  
Michael nodded, then reminded himself that Nick didn't see it. "Yes." He frowned. "By the size of the crack, it should have been visible right away."  
"My thought's exactly." Nick tied his shoes and Michael had to congratulate him on not tying his fingers in.  
"What happens when Kemada can't present the scepter back home?"  
“Good question and that’s what we have to find out.”  
Michael raised both eyebrows. “We? Nick, in case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t exactly in the condition to do much.”  
Nick smiled. “But I can do some things even without my eyes. I also have my guide dog.”  
Michael chuckled. “I’ll have a look around, see who comes up as suspects, you do… whatever you want to do.”  
“That’s the plan.”

* * *

Devon had resumed his work despite the fact that he looked like roadkill on a day off. His face was bruised, there were cuts on his hands and more bruises where no one would ever see them, and a large band-aid covered the sizeable bump on his forehead. The doctors had told him he might have a mild concussion, but he had been determined to get back to his desk. Like Bonnie, he knew he had to be here because his help was needed. Michael’s visit to the Foundation headquarters had come as a surprise since the younger man hadn’t been here in ages, except for official reasons like fundraisers.  
Now Michael sat in the expensive, old leather chair, reading through the papers. The arrival of the Toudu delegation and the participation of Knight Industries in the exhibit had involved Devon in a large part of the actual diplomatics and organization. He had met the prince several times, he had spent a pleasant afternoon talking about his work and about the Foundation’s goals with Arif Kemada, and he had been impressed by the sophisticated young man. He was clearly a visionary for his country and he wanted Toudu to enter the twenty-first century.  
Michael dropped the papers back on Devon’s desk and carefully massaged his forehead. Like everyone who had been unlucky enough to be close to the explosions, he was bruised and sore.  
“It doesn’t make any sense, Devon.”  
Miles folded his hands and rested them on the desk. “Things rarely do, my boy.”  
Michael drummed his fingers on the chair’s armrest. “Someone goes to all the trouble to set the bombs, nearly kills people, only to steal a scepter?”  
“It’s not just a scepter. It’s the scepter of Ebre and his great cultural value for the Toudu and it’s closely connected to each ruling family. Without the scepter, Prince Kemada loses support.”  
“But why go through all the trouble of bombing the museum? They could have just grabbed it while on the way home. Or while no one was in the building.”  
“It is a puzzle, yes.”  
“And why replace it with a fake? One that was also, quite quickly I have to add, discovered.”  
The door opened and Bonnie walked in. Between the three of them, she looked the most unmarked by the recent events. “Here’s what Kitt and I could find on Toudu and the ruling family.” She brandished a CD. “Quite interesting.”  
Michael raised an eyebrow, then winced as a bruise protested.  
“Toudu society is complex but also rather single?minded. It all revolves around royalty and monarchy. The island is divided into small provinces, each ruled by a family, which is elected by the people of each province. Members of this family make up the Royal Council, something like a parliament. The ruler is elected by the chosen of the people, which is a rather democratic way, but once in power, this power is absolute. Kemada’s family belongs to a branch of council members who rule liberally and are slowly turning away from old ideals. The others are watching them warily, but since every king can do as he pleases, there’s no outspoken criticism.”  
“What happens now that Kemada has lost the scepter?“ Michael asked, frowning as much as his injuries let him.  
"Political repercussions,“ Bonnie answered. "He will lose face, he might lose the trust of his people, another ruler could take over. He isn’t automatically dethroned, but in time a rival might rise up and win by overthrowing the weakened king.“  
"Emile Korban.“  
"Emile Korban is the cousin, not direct blood in Toudu tradition and understanding, Michael. He would never inherit the throne when Kemada steps down.“  
"Does Kemada have any children? Maybe a brother or sister?“  
"No children, but two brothers and a sister..“  
Michael frowned. "Then what would happen?“  
"A new ruler would be elected by the people if they express their distrust in Kemada, if they rebel against him because he lost the scepter.“  
"Any idea who might be the candidate?“  
"No.“  
Michael’s frown deepened. "So if we find the possible candidate, we know who has the scepter.“  
"Maybe,“ Devon cautioned him. "Whoever he is, he doesn’t need the scepter to be elected. He only needs to discredit the current king, which he did already.“  
“Maybe I should poke around at higher levels and see what stirs,” Michael decided and rose. “Thanks for the insight.”  
He left five minutes later.

* * *

In the Hemlein Private Clinic, an alarm went off. The tracing on the ECG monitor was nothing but a straight line. The alarm sounded shrilly and was almost lost in the commotion now erupting.  
"Asystole!" one of the nurses called out.  
"Code 99, Shock Trauma Unit!" the doctor bellowed.  
The hospital paging unit came to life within seconds and the crash cart unit burst in. They moved into action without hesitation.  
"Everybody clear!"  
The staff stepped away from the doctor holding the electric defibrillator paddles as he pressed them against the left side of their dying patient. A jolt raced through the body, making it twitch involuntarily. The tracing on the monitor twitched once.  
"Again!"  
Another jolt.  
"Piggyback a bottle of high-dose epinephrine, and titrate!" the doctor shouted.  
The pharmacist complied.  
The ER unit continued to try and save Jennifer Knight’s life.

* * *

“Do you think it's a good idea...."  
"Yes," Nick cut his partner off, adjusting the glasses.  
Walking down the stairs had been easy once he had reached them. Getting to Karr had involved a lot of cursing and carefully remembering the ground floor. Karr hadn’t been any help since he wanted Nick to stay home. Nick had found that he could now tell the difference between dark and light much better and that it was time to do some of his own investigating.  
“You could call him,” Karr suggested as his partner ran a hand over the car’s frame, then clicked the door open.  
“No.”  
Karr muttered something rude as he drove out onto the quay road. Nick wasn't in control of the Stealth; he just had his hands on the steering wheel. Despite being able to see slightly better than before, Nick still had the problem of being incredibly sensitive to light and having trouble focusing quickly. Karr disapproved of Nick even leaving the warehouse, but there was no going up against the steel ball that was his partner’s mind. Knight was currently talking to Prince Kemada and wouldn’t be back for a while. If he would have set his mind to it, Karr could have stopped his driver. There were ways, and the most extreme ones were also rather painful. But he didn’t want to force him.  
“Stop muttering, it gives me a headache,” Nick sighed. “You know this is the only way.”  
“It isn’t. This could be solved by a call or by asking Knight to see this professor.”  
 “Not my style.”  
Karr snorted but didn’t comment. He simply concentrated on where he was driving.

*

The Museum of Natural History was a quiet place in the late evening hours. The doors to the exhibitions rooms had closed down about two hours ago and most of the employees were gone. Security guards made their rounds, looking in on the few lit rooms on the second floor. Down in one room, one lonely figure worked over the newly arrived crates. The crates had stamps from Africa all over them and most of them were still closed. The lonely figure moved the heavy wooden lid off the smallest of the crates and started to unwrap the object inside. Then he placed it on the table, starting his examination.  
"Still working, Professor?"  
The voice startled him and he nearly dropped the large object.  “What…! You!”  
Nick smiled slightly. “Good evening, Professor Monroe. I apologize for startling you.”  
"Nothing to be sorry about," Professor Dirk Monroe said, laying down the oval shape. "I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't hear you coming, my friend. Long time no see, Nick. What brings you here?"  
Nick shook his hand, ignoring the professor’s curious gaze. Wearing shades in a room was not his usual style.  
 “I heard you were asked to have a look at the Toudu art that was exhibited at the Native Art museum.”  
Monroe nodded. Both museums worked together and had organized the exhibit.  "Yes. And now something was stolen, I heard.”  
Word traveled, Nick thought with a smile. “The scepter as well?”  
“Of course. It’s the center piece of the whole exhibit. It is an extraordinary piece of work and I was honored to be allowed to examine it up close. The scepter isn't anything I've ever seen on before. The staff isn't made of normal wood and the stone at its top isn't any gem I've ever seen either. The structure of the wood is unknown and it is incredibly dense and hard. The stone looks like glass, but it isn't and it's just as hard and dense as a diamond."  
“You were also asked to have a look at the fake scepter that was found?”  
Another nod.  
"And the stone was glass?"  
"Exactly. The jewel stone was cracked when I examined the scepter."  
"Do fakes exist?"  
"Not to my knowledge."  
"How easy are they to make?"  
Monroe frowned a bit. "Depending on the quality, a few hours to several days, I would presume."  
"And the fake scepter? What quality does it have?" Nick now asked.  
"It is, as you might want to put it, an almost perfect fake. The skill displayed in creating the staff is enormous and a casual examination wouldn't reveal its origin."  
"And a closer inspection?"  
"Only if you know you are looking at a fake," the scientist answered. "I had pictures from the Toudu files and I have to confess whoever made the staff, he is a master."  
"What about the stone?"  
"That is what was puzzling me. The stone is a cheap glass imitation. The cut is wrong, the color is faded and blotchy, and the crack...." Monroe shook his head. "Inferior quality through and through."  
Nick frowned. "It doesn't fit," he mumbled. "Someone creates an almost perfect copy of the staff but uses a cheap gem stone. Why?"  
"I cannot answer that question, Nick. I take it you are investigating?"  
“Kind of. Thanks for your help, professor.”  
“Always a pleasure to meet old friends.”

* * *

Michael felt completely out of place and he knew he was being watched with eagle eyes wherever he set foot. Two men in dark suits were accompanying him down the hotel corridor. The delegation had rented the whole floor and no one came or went without being checked by the guards at the elevators. Each guard was armed, the bulge under their suits only too visible. They didn’t talk, just led him to the huge double doors to the President Suite, then turned the duty of guarding him to the men inside the suite.  
The room was as large enough to fit two families with five children each, and have room to throw a party. Michael had been in many such expensive hotel rooms, but he was always surprised and amazed again. How could one person claim so much space?  
“Ah, Mr. Knight.”  
The voice was pleasant, dark and belonged to a middle-aged man with dark brown skin and a brilliant white smile. Prince Arif Kemada was a man about half a head smaller than Michael and dressed in the robes of his rank as ruler of the Toudu islands. The two armed guards stopped in a respectful distance behind Michael, but close enough to discourage any thought on attempting something unhealthy. Unhealthy for Michael.  
"Thank you for making some time on your schedule, your majesty," Michael started.  
It had been a surprise when the prince had agreed to Michael’s request to talk to him. They had briefly met at the reception, but that had been about it.  
"Please, call me by my given name. I am Arif Kemada. You are neither my subject nor am I your superior," the Toudu stopped him.  
Michael was pleasantly surprised. "Of course... Mr. Kemada."  
"You said you wanted to talk to me. About what?"  
"It concerns the theft of the scepter," Michael explained.  
“Ah, a highly unpleasant business. I have set one of my best agents on the job. I was informed that Ms. Mato already briefed you. Your Foundation was quite insistent to let you help us with out problem.”  
Michael nodded. “Yes, I met Ms. Mato. Charming woman. As for our involvement: you declined help from the FBI. Why?”  
“These are Toudu affairs. We do not wish involve the Americans.”  
“Some very ancient artifacts were stolen on US grounds. The FBI naturally would involve itself. Actually, they are anyway.”  
The man shook his head. “It is unnecessary.”  
“It is a political issue, I understand.” Michael closely watched the prince, but he had to give it to him. He didn’t even twitch a muscle.  
“Everything is politics when you are in my position, Mr. Knight.”  
“Some things more than others.”  
A smile answered him. “Yes.”  
“Does the scepter hold any personal value?”  
“It is a valuable piece that reflects our heritage. I think it holds personal value to every Toudu.”  
//Diplomatic// Kitt remarked.  
//Very. I think this was a waste of time//  
“So, because it was stolen while away from its home will be regarded as what? A personal insult to every Toudu?” he asked out loud.  
Again, Kemada didn’t even flinch. “A personal loss,” he corrected smoothly. “Now, if there wasn’t anything else you wanted to talk with me about, I’m afraid I have to ask you to excuse me. I have a tight schedule.”  
Michael nodded. “Of course. Thank you for your time.”  
Kemada smiled and bowed slightly. “It was my pleasure, Mr. Knight.”  
He left the suite and was accompanied back down to the elevator by his two silent guardians. As he left the elevator on the ground floor, someone fell in step beside him. Michael wasn’t all that much surprised to discover it was agent Mato.  
“Good afternoon, Ms. Mato,” he greeted her as they walked through the large main hall and toward the exit.  
“I heard you have requested an audience with the prince. I was surprised he gave it.”  
Michael shrugged.  
“I suspect it didn’t go to your pleasure.”  
“Not much.”  
“The theft has put His Majesty under a lot of pressure from the counselors and the people. It is the first time the scepter went off the island and he had to fight hard to get the rest of the council to accept it. Many fought it and it took patience and smooth talking, but he finally succeeded."  
Michael gave her a curious look. Mato just stared straight ahead as they walked along the moderately crowded sidewalk. “You sound like you don’t approve of it either.”  
“It is my culture. I don’t like it cheaply displayed in a foreign museum.”  
“I heard they are charging ten bucks per person.”  
Her head snapped around and Michael gave her a disarming smile. Mato studied his features.  
“Is this the American sense of humor?”  
“It is the Michael Knight sense of humor. So tell me, what happens now that the scepter was stolen?”  
“His Majesty will have a rather shaky stand at home. Compared to former kings and queens, he rules liberally, he has the trust of my people, and he wants to introduce foreign culture into our kingdom.”  
“And you aren’t against that?”  
She gave him a wry smile. “It means trade and trade is good for the economy. Showing artifacts of Toudu was a first step, and now the scepter, the center piece, was stolen. His Majesty has lost face and he is losing support. All this because of some greedy thieves."  
Michael shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that simple. What would they gain? They can't sell the scepter without someone knowing they stole it. There is the black market, but the scepter is hot stuff. No one would buy it."  
"They could wait until the waves have calmed."  
“There is more trouble than profit in the theft," Michael argued. "And most of the trouble is for Prince Kemada. Can he be dethroned because of this?”  
Mato stared straight ahead, her face a mask. “Possibly. I told him that security was too lax.”  
“Wow, wait a second there. You told me just twenty-four hours ago that you personally oversaw security.”  
“But I was forced to work with American security guards. I didn’t trust them. I argued against holding the reception in the museum. It was too crowded and it was easy to steal the scepter.”  
“I wouldn’t call placing three very strong explosive devices easy. It was cleverly planned. Shake everyone up, grab the real scepter, replace it with a fake.”  
"What are you implying."  
"That it was an inside job."  
Mato's eyes flashed. "Someone from... my people?"  
Michael didn't say anything, simply returned the intense gaze. "Is there someone gaining from this theft?" he finally asked.  
She was silent, a frown on her forehead. They stopped beside Kitt and Michael automatically leaned against his partner.  
“Well?” he inquired.  
“I have to go,” Ann-Marie Mato simply said and turned on her heal, briskly walking away.  
Michael sighed and shook his head, then opened the door and got into the black TransAm.  
“Not much success, I take it,” Kitt greeted him.  
“I think it went better than I would have thought. Something’s going on and everyone’s trying not to be the one to spill it. Anything from Nick?”  
“Yes and no. Karr’s not in a good mood and I think it's because of Nick.”  
“Ah.” Michael eased Kitt back into traffic.  
“He left the warehouse.”  
“What?!” Michael exclaimed. “The man’s as stubborn as a mule! Worse even!”  
“What else is new?”  
He grimaced. “Where’s he headed?”  
“Unknown.”  
“Oh great,” Michael sighed.  
“Karr won’t tell me,” Kitt apologized.  
“Now there's a shocker,” he mumbled. “Should have chained him to the bed!”  
“I severely doubt that would have slowed Nick down in any considerable way,” Kitt remarked dryly.  
Michael gave a snort of laughter.

* * *

A broken looking building stood lonely and forgotten at the outskirts. Several decades this had been a flourishing neighborhood, but people had left one by one, the empty buildings now open to anyone who needed shelter and was not afraid to face what lived here. The building had been claimed by a sole person and no one came near it if they could help it. Today someone had parked in front of the large double doors that hung precariously in their hinges. The visitor pushed the doors open and stepped into the twilight of the room behind them.  
Nothing moved.  
Nothing breathed.  
But something was here nevertheless.  
Karr’s sensors were on full, guiding his partner, and it didn't take him long to locate the person they had been searching for. Nicki walked into the room, ready for a confrontation should his contact decide to test him. He better not. Nick was in no mood to play.  
"Welcome to my humble home!"  
Nick controlled his initial reaction of reaching for his gun and shooting the speaker with a great effort. He simply stopped and looked into the darkness. His vision was still enhanced by Karr and couldn’t be called human vision. Someone stepped out of the shadows playing all over the room. It was a man, as tall as Nick, but he somehow appeared lanky and as if he had too many joints to control at once. He was the perfect image of a pale, thin, watery-eyed lab mouse, spending his time inside dark and evil smelling rooms to come up with ingenious or outright crazy ideas. Looking at him Nick couldn't shake the impression that he'd shrivel up and die in sun light.  
"Hello, Byte."  
Byte was an ace in many fields of operation, trained by one of the best, but his special field was surveillance and infiltration by electronic means. Byte had broken into more computer systems than Nick could count. He loved to play with everything technical and no challenge was too big -- and no price too small.  
"You changed," Byte now remarked with a grin. "You are alive, for instance."  
Nick's lips curled into a cold smile. They had seen each other the last time over ten years ago, somewhere in South America, and Byte had fled the scene while bombs went up around them. Nick had survived.  
"Fortunate accident."  
"Heh. Now, what can I do for you?"  
"I want to employ your services."  
The scientist grinned, spreading his arms wide. "Those are words I love to hear, but what I love even more is the donation you’ll make to get the merchandise."  
"You will get the usual."  
Byte sighed. "No hope for a raise?" he asked, almost as if talking to himself. "No, apparently not. What a shame. So...what do you want?"  
“I need several people checked. Their files will most likely have tight security on it. A diplomat, a foreign secret agent….” He held up a CD. “All in here.”  
Byte's face turned thoughtful. "That's big," he muttered, pacing up and down. "But not impossible. Might take a while. Bit of tacky programming here or there maybe....." He kept on muttering as he walked into the shadows again.  
Nick followed and entered a room just next to the withered, old hall. This one was the complete opposite. It was packed with computers to the ceiling, all connected to each other, screen lit up, more machines hooked up to them in turn. A low hum, barely detectable, dominated the room.  
Byte sat down on the only chair and swiveled it to face Nick. "Two days."  
"You have three hours."  
"Three hours?!" Byte exclaimed. "I can give you a preliminary in three hours, but not the complete results!"  
The next thing the scientist knew was that he and his chair were pinned to the row of computers at the wall. Nick leaned down to his eye-level.  
"Three hours," he said levely. "I want the results in three hours."  
"Okay, okay, okay," Byte wheezed.  
Nick turned on his heels and left.  
"Geez! Employers nowadays aren't what they used to be," Byte grumbled.

* * *

The mansion was quiet. It seemed to be deserted and the ticking of the grandfather clock was unnaturally loud. You could have heard a pin drop in Devon’s office. Devon Miles stood with his back to the room, arms behind his back, staring out of the window. Part of him was deeply, deeply shocked, another part, one he would deny existed, was exhaling with relief and organizing a cheerful party.  
Jennifer Knight had died two hours ago at the Hemlein Clinic without regaining consciousness. There were lengthy medical terms, all leading to the fact that she had lost too much blood and her system had been unable to cope with the damage done. Doctors had tried to reanimate her twice, but the second time, she had not come back. It was a tragedy for the Foundation but not for a group of people he knew very well.  
The Board already knew, at least two members of them. He sighed. She would leave an empty spot, but none that couldn’t be filled. At least within the next few months. It was a relief and a tragedy, both a drama and good news. Devon shook his head. How could he feel relieved about the death of a young woman? Wilton Knight’s daughter, his youngest child, a girl he had seen grown up? But she had changed so much, she had grown vengeful and power-hungry, she had destroyed lives. Devon had always wondered how Wilton’s children could be so different from their father. They had been driven by a hunger he hadn’t been able to understand. Garth had wanted money and power, just like Jennifer, and they had both turned into criminals; Garth openly and Jennifer hidden. She had used the corporation to commit her crimes.  
Now Garth was the last of the direct Knight bloodline to be still alive. Elizabeth had passed away in a hospital prison over a year ago. Back then, Devon had felt nothing at all and the funeral had been a small and silent one. Michael had been there as well.  
The phone rang and he flinched. It shattered the silence and pulled him into the real world of the here and now. Devon turned and picked up the receiver.

* * *

Nick had returned an hour after Michael had come back to the warehouse. Karr was still miffed about his driver’s insistence that he was fine and that nothing was wrong with him, and it radiated through the link.  
<_It’s not the first time he does something like this, Kitt said gently. <_He has left the warehouse with shot and stab wounds in various parts of his body.  
<_This time was different, Karr growled. <_He’s blind!  
<_His eyes are getting better  
<_Nick is more vulnerable now than he ever was with a bullet in his shoulder or a knife in his leg! the other AI snapped furiously. <_But he won’t listen to reason.  
Kitt smiled. <_Been there, had the argument, didn’t win. Humans are like that.  
<_Nick is worse.  
Kitt’s smile widened and Karr gave him an angry look. Of course Kitt understood what this was about. Nick was perfectly able to defend himself while having a handicap, but he didn’t see his attackers now, if there were any.  
<_It will get better, he soothed.  
<_Knowing Nick, I doubt that.

Michael had refrained from remarking on Nick’s obvious dislike of doctor’s orders and had simply listened to what his friend had discovered. Bonnie was present as well. He had picked her up on the way here and the two of them had dug deep into the history of the Toudu, and especially Prince Arif Kemada. Kemada had fought long and hard to get the kingdom this far and he had had opposition all the way and still had it. Using the scepter he had tried to get his island known to the other countries, get relations going, but now everything had backfired. Emile didn't show up all that much. He was a background figure, someone who was like a shadow. A controlling shadow, Michael had remarked. He was involved in this, but how....?  
"Who would benefit from Kemada stepping down?" he now asked.  
"No one we can see," Kitt answered. "That's the problem. Emile is not of the ruling family and that's why he wouldn't be automatically a candidate for an election. He could try it, but the people are loyal to their ruling families, which doesn't necessarily mean they automatically trust their chosen king without question once he is elected. Kapia is the ruling family and will choose the candidates. Korban wouldn't stand a chance."  
"And he never showed the ambition either," Michael added. "His job is that of an advisor, a right hand, not a ruler."  
"He is holding the strings, guiding the king, but this king seems to go the opposite way," Nick said, a cool pack on his eyes. It was something he had been advised to do. It helped relief the pain from the injury. "Think about it. Korban is the advisor and he advised kings in the past. The kingdom was rather conservative until Kemada was elected. He is a liberal king, steering the union somewhere else completely, causing an uproar in the council, but they are not counter-acting his decisions. He is accomplishing things, especially in diplomatic relations with foreign nations."  
Bonnie nodded. "I had a look at the records. Since he was elected a lot more diplomats from other nations were allowed into the kingdom, import and export has risen and the economy is flourishing. Before he was regent there was a strict rule against outside trade. Toudu was fiercely protecting its goods."  
"Someone seems to be against progress, and Korban is involved. But who would be his pawn after Kemada steps down?"  
"Well, since it can be only Kapia family we had a look at the family tree. Kemada has two younger brothers and a sister. All are married to allied families. His brothers share his liberal views, but his sister seems to be married to a conservative. His name is Themen Kilandru. His family was allowed into the council because he married the sister."  
"Wouldn't the brothers be candidates as well?" Michael wanted to know.  
"At first look yes," Kitt entered the conversation. "But no when you look at the election rules and the likely candidates. Both brothers are already members of the council. Counselors are not allowed to be crowned."  
"Interesting. And the brother-in-law isn't?"  
"Currently he is second heir to the family leadership of Kilandru and there is no way his older brother is stepping down. He could ask to be named candidate because he is married to a Kapia. Or the sister steps in, being of Kapia blood, and goes for the election of queen."  
"And with the election," Nick concluded, "Korban would also be back in power, the ruler behind the ruler, shaping the kingdom back to the conservative power it was. Kapia is one of the most powerful families. Their voice is always heard."  
They looked at each other.  
“Now all we have to do is find proof,” Michael sighed after a second, rubbing a hand over his face. “Damn. I’m not caffeinated enough for this!”  
Nick leaned back, eyes closed behind his dark glasses.  
“Michael? Devon is calling,” Kitt could suddenly be heard over the com-link.  
Michael walked over to the phone and switched on the loudspeakers. “Patch him through.”  
“Michael?”  
“Yo, Devon, what’s up?”  
The other man sounded strangely subdued. “I received a call from the Hemlein Clinic a few hours ago.”  
Nick sat up straight and turned his head. There was a hard to read expression on his face.  
“Jennifer Knight died at 4.07 p.m due to heart failure and severe trauma.“  
Silence settled in the room, no one moved. Michael stared at the phone, unable to cope with the news. He felt Kitt with him, disturbed, happy, angry, frightened… all in one. He found himself looking at Nick, whose face was an unreadable mask.  
“Thank you, Devon,” was all he managed.  
He disconnected and walked back to the couch, his steps automatic. His mind was a mess. Kitt was still there, closer than before, but neither spoke. What they had always wished for had happened. Jennifer Knight was gone for good out of their lives, but why didn’t he feel like getting out the party hats and cake?

* * *

Byte's fingers flew over the keyboard, programming string after string of commands into the machine while his eyes were pinned on the computer screen. All around him more machines were working, the soft hum that was his steady companion now a steady throbbing. He hit a final key and then rotated his chair once around the axis.  
“Yay!” he cheered. “Beat my own record!” He chuckled.  
Byte closed down the files and then started the search program. He knew it would take a while and so he leaned back and played with one of the many other projects he always fiddled around with. Some of the stuff seemed useless to others, but Byte liked to tinker around with crazy stuff. It helped his reputation.  
After some time a mild beep told him that his program was done. He went back to the main station and checked what it had found.  
“Hey, that’s hot,” he grinned. “Now let’s see if we can dig deeper.”  
And Byte was absorbed in his work again.

* * *

They were getting nowhere. They had a suspect, they knew he had pulled it off, but there was no way any of them could prove it. Korban had diplomatic immunity and whatever accusations they threw at him, he’d laugh about them. Michael crumbled up a piece of fast food wrapping and tossed it into the bin closest to him. It was late already and he was running his head in, bumping into so many dead end alleys. He had talked to Ann-Marie Mato, but the woman had been as close-mouthed and brisk as always. Having to meet someone from the FBI had topped this perfect day and Michael felt ready to call this a night.  
They returned to the warehouse and found Karr inside. With Nick handicapped, it didn’t come as a big surprise, though he had already left once. Much to Karr’s disapproval. The AI could be fiercely protective sometimes. Just as bad as Kitt, Michael mused with a  grin.  
//Just protecting my interest// Kitt chuckled.  
//It’s appreciated//  
//You didn’t say that the last time I grounded you//  
Michael laughed. “You sound like my mother!”  
“Someone has to keep an eye on you,” Kitt replied.  
He got out of the car, still smiling. Taking the stairs two at a time, he went up to the living room floor. Nick was nowhere to be seen. Michael went into the kitchen and got himself a beer, then sat down onto the couch. Nick appeared out of his room, looking like he had just taken a shower. He was wearing the glasses.  
“I take it there have been no new developments.” It wasn’t a question.  
Michael placed the beer on the couch table. “No. Nothing.”  
Nick, towel slung around his neck, carefully picked his way to the couch. Michael didn’t know how much his friend saw or if he remembered his way around the warehouse, but he looked a bit more secure now.  
“Jennifer’s burial will be in tomorrow,” MacKenzie now said conversationally.  
“You will be there.”  
“Yes. And so will you.”  
It wasn’t a question or an order. It was more of a suggestion. Michael nodded slowly. He would be there, just so he could see it all with his own eyes. It was still too much to cope with, on top of the whole weird case, and he didn’t believe it just yet.  
Before he could say something, the phone rang. Beating Nick to it, Michael switched it on loudspeakers.  
“This is agent Mato,” the cold voice of the red-head could be heard.  
He raised both brows. “Ms. Mato, what can I do for you?” Michael asked. He had met her just how many hours ago? Four?  
“The scepter has been found.”  
Michael opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Finally he managed, “What?!”  
“The FBI arrested one Osmond Bower, a known thief, who was trying to fence the artifact,” Mato explained.  
He shook his head. “Who’s Osmond Bower?”  
“Ozzy ‘I done it’ Bower. Small time crook,” Nick replied. He had sat down on the couch, gazing at the ceiling through his ever-present shades. He sounded almost bored.  
“And you think he set the explosives and exchanged the scepter and then tried to fence it?” Michael couldn’t believe his ears.  
“That’s what your FBI says,” Mato confirmed. “The scepter has been returned. Prince Kemada is already back on Toudu, but he will hear of it. I want to thank you for your cooperation.” With that she hung up and left the two men in silence.  
Michael stared at the loudspeaker of the phones, then at Nick. “That’s the most outrageously unbelievable story I ever heard.”  
“Yes.”  
“If Bower is a small-time thief, how come he tried himself at something this big?”  
“Yes.”  
“No one in his right mind would attempt a museum theft while a reception is taking place, and using explosives for it!”  
“Yes.”  
He glared at Nick, who was still gazing at the ceiling. “You know the guy?”  
Nick turned his head, smiling. “The whole criminal community knows him. Ozzy Bower is the first to say ‘I did it’ when there’s something big happening. Nothing he isn’t he involved in, stole, fenced or had a major part in. If you want to have a reliable scapegoat, take him. You could call it a hobby of his.”  
“Someone framed him then. We just have to find out who.”  
“We know who, Michael. That’s easy. The question is, how do we get the truth out of him? We know that Kemada is having trouble back home because of the theft. Korban returns home triumphantly because he has the scepter.”  
“But he won’t rule because of it.”  
“Politics is never straight-forward. Politics means working in the dark and moving pawns. Kemada has lost the trust of his people, so they rebel against him. Someone else steps forward, get the throne, Korban stays advisor, and here we go.”  
“So how do we prove it?”  
“We can’t.” Nick sat up.  
Frustration raced through him. “Then what?”  
“We might want to try and ask Mr. Bower a few questions.”  
Michael frowned. “But even if he puts the blame on someone like Korban, what good does it do?”  
That was the main question.

* * *

Being a part of the Foundation sometimes had its advantages, Michael thought as he flashed his ID card at the guard and waited for him to open the security door. Even while the FBI had first dibs on Ozzy Bower, the Foundation was still representing the interest of the Toudu delegation, more or less, and Devon had moved some big rocks to get Michael this special permit. He would have an hour, but he didn’t think he’d need more than maybe half of it.  
The guard led him to the empty interview room. Empty except for two chairs and a desk. There was a camera keeping an eye on proceedings, but Michael wasn’t worried about it. Kitt was hovering inside the system and would interfere if anything that was recorded here might prove to be not for FBI ears. Michael doubted it, but he took precautions nevertheless.  
Someone was already in the room. Michael looked at the small man in his mid-fifties and wondered how anyone in his right mind would believe him to be the master mind behind the theft. Ozzy Bower was a small-time crook with a tendency for imaginary greatness. His police file read like a tale of fiction. The problem was, he was highly untalented, but he believed he was a pro.  
“My name is Michael Knight,” he introduced himself. “I’m from the Foundation for Law and Government.”  
Bower looked at him. “You look nuthin’ like a lawyer.”  
“I’m not.”  
“An’ I don’ wanna lawyer.”  
“I’m not your lawyer,” Michael repeated. “I’m here because I’d like to ask you about the scepter of Ebre.”  
The other man squinted at him. “Yer a policeman?”  
“No. I work for a private organization that is involved in this case.”  
“I done it,” Ozzy proclaimed.  
Michael hid a smile. “I think it someone framed you.”  
“No idea what yer talkin’ about,” Bower answered. “’twas me. I done it.”  
“Mr. Bower, we know you didn’t steal the scepter, but it was in you possession and now someone is trying to let you take the fall for it.”  
“’twas me, Mister. Ozzy Bower can steal ev’rythin’ an’ get inta any buildin’ he wants ta!”  
“By blowing the floor out from under an exhibit in a crowded museum on a reception night?”  
“That’s right!”  
“With dynamite?”  
“Best for it.”  
It had been C4, according to forensics, but Bower didn’t know that.  
“So tell me, how did you do it?”  
“Told the darn FBI police already.”  
“Then tell me again.”  
“Wired the dynamite, detonated it, got in. That’s it.”  
“And you replaced the real scepter with a fake?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Where did you get the fake?”  
“Not spillin’ on me pardners.”  
“The fake is a work of art, Mr. Bower. Even though the stone is cheap. You must have paid a lot to get it done,” Michael prodded.  
“Sometimes ya haveta spend a lot ta get more.”  
He almost smiled. “We know who did it,” Michael said. “Just help us nail it on him.”  
Bower didn’t answer and refused to meet Michael’s eyes.  
“This time, it won’t be just a few months or even a year, not even probation,” he went on. “This time, you killed someone.”  
The gray head snapped up. “I never killed nobody!”  
“I’m sorry to say it, Mr. Bower, but you did. Through the explosion, part of the floor caved in and a woman died. You might never see the outside of a prison again.”  
A tremor went through the man. “I didn’…. want…. I…. I didn’ kill her!”  
“Who hired you? Who gave you the scepter to fence? Who paid you?”  
“They’ll kill me!” Ozzy protested.  
“They will kill you even if you keep their secret. Do you think they’ll leave lose ends?”  
Wide eyes met Michael’s serious face. “They wouldn’t….”  
“Believe me, they would.”  
Indecision warred on the weathered face, then Bower sighed. “Not much help, anyway. Never saw no face, just got the bucks an’ the scepter. Pal o’ mine arranged it all. Said there’s good money innit. ‘S said ta take the merchandise to the docks and fence it. Deliver the money an’ that’s it.”  
“But the police was waiting and now you are taking the fall.”  
Bower nodded.  
“So, this friend of yours, who is it?” Michael wanted to know.  
“Billy the Snake. Has a billiard saloon on Main.”  
//His mother must have been proud// Kitt remarked wryly.  
Michael almost laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Bower.”  
“Will you protect me?” Ozzy called after him as he left.  
Michael stopped. “We will try,” he then only said. //Kitt, check on someone called Billy the Snake and get me the address of the billiard place//

* * *

“Why am I not surprised?”  
“Maybe because you expected it?”  
Michael smiled at the dash, then returned his gaze to where the police was swarming around the run-down pool hall. It didn’t take a genius to guess who was on the gurney that was now being loaded into the coroner’s car. Someone was erasing all evidence.  
“Nick’s calling,” Kitt announced.  
“Put him through.”  
“We have a problem,” Nick’s voice could be heard.  
“I’d say that. Billy the Snake is dead.”  
“Happens,” was the level reply. Nick could be so cold about death, sometimes Michael wondered if he still felt anything when it came to tragedies. Then he had to remind himself of the times Nick had shown emotions. They were rare, but they happened. “The retrieved scepter is a fake.”  
He blinked. “What?”  
“I used a few… connections to have the returned artifact examined. Korban was against it, but he had to relent. The FBI had agreed to my suggestion to have a look at the scepter.”  
Michael smiled. Nick’s ‘suggestion’. Uh-huh. He really didn’t want to know.  
“It’s a fake.”  
“Two fakes?”  
“Yes.”  
“It doesn’t make any sense!”  
He could almost imagine Nick’s smile. “Yes, it doesn’t, does it?”  
Michael frowned. “What’s going on, Nick?”  
“I wish I knew. For us, it’s back to square one. I’m currently running a few checks on every player in this game and I have some interesting dossiers, but nothing conclusive. I’ll get back to you when I know more.”  
“I’m coming home anyway,” Michael sighed and signed off.  
Two fakes. What the heck was happening?

* * *

Nick closed his eyes and rubbed his aching forehead. Despite the pain-killers, he was prone to getting headaches now and then. His eyes were getting better and he didn’t run into things, but he was far from back to normal.  
“Two fakes,” he muttered. “Whoever broke into the museum and redecorated the whole wing, they stole a fake and replaced it with one of their own. They gave what they believed to be the real one to Bower, who was supposed to fence it. The police had been informed and they caught the scapegoat. Korban would have returned home to Toudu, outwaited the reelections and everything would have been fine. But instead, we have a still missing scepter and an unhappy Korban. It had to be replaced before the exhibit was opened for the reception.”  
Karr was silent, hovering inside his mind, but he didn’t contribute to Nick’s loud thinking.  
"Something’s not right," he muttered. "But I can't put my finger on it!"  
He opened his eyes and winced as a stab of pain ran through his head. Karr suddenly flowed forward, a cool, soothing mass. Nick felt his muscles relax a fraction.  
<How about taking another painkiller?> the AI suggested calmly.  
<They make me feel funny>  
<So what’s the difference?>  
<Smart ass>  
But Nick took one of the pills out of the prescription bottle and swallowed it. He lay back against the pillows, his mind still turning the theories over and over in his head.  
“Karr, who had access to the exhibit?”  
“Only security was allowed in or out of the room at any time. And the curator.”  
“Name?”  
“Dr. Silvana McBride.”  
“Check her background, partner.”  
“You suspect her?”  
“I suspect everyone.”  
“Figures.”  
A wry smile crossed his features.  
The security had been fool-proof and airtight according to Ann-Marie Mato, and though Nick didn’t believe in an absolutely perfect security system, he had had Karr review it; and it was really good. No one could have gotten in or out, but someone had and this someone had had access.  
“Karr, I need your help,” he suddenly said.  
Karr would have raised an eyebrow if he had had any to raise. “Yes?”  
“I need to get into the museum’s mainframe.”  
“That’s easy.”  
“I know that, but due to my visual problem, I want you to look at some things for me.”  
“And that would be what exactly?”  
Nick opened the link and approached his partner. It was like an invitation and Karr was slightly surprised when Nick used the connection to send memories. Sending memories was theoretically possible and had practically happened before. Each nightmare was a memory sent down an unblocked link, but this time, Nick wasn’t sending a nightmare. He was wordlessly informing Karr what he wanted.  
<I understand> the AI answered, keeping the link open as he accessed the museum’s mainframe. Nick was like a watcher, using the eyes of Karr as he searched through the data streams.  
Karr maneuvered himself into the user files. He glanced at the data scrolling over the virtual screen and felt Nick stop him.  
Toudu – History of an Island  
track no. LH-984, B12  
last access June 7th, 4.34 p.m.  
user: Dr. Silvana McBride  
<She accessed the files> Karr rumbled.  <And not only those. There are multiple user entries to his name>  
He let the screen scroll further up, then sent another command.  
user: Dr. Silvana McBride  
user code: *******  
last access: June 21st, 8.51 p.m.  
list of accessed documents (reversed thread)  
Toudu Myth and Magic  
Toudu - an attempt to map an island  
The Art of Art  
Island Mythology  
What Is Real?  
Secrets of Jewels  
The list went on and Nick started to see a definite trend here.  
<She was a regular in the museum’s library. Access the net copy of the last book>  
Karr did as asked and Nick nodded slowly. There was a rather large section on forgery, fakes and how to detect them. Calling up more books at the end of the list they discovered that all of them were more or less about forgery.  
<So you think he was involved?> Karr asked neutral.  
Nick shrugged. <It wouldn't hold up in a court of law. Anyone can go to the museum’s virtual library and read books. She is the curator. She is supposed to know real from fake>  
Karr backed out of the system and Nick had to twist several times to drag himself out of the depth of the link. A shiver coursed through him and he steadied his nerves. As much routine as they had at linking, attempting a deep link was freaky. Michael and Kitt did it with ease. Karr pulled back to give him breathing space and he was glad about it.  
“You suspect her,” Karr repeated.  
“Yes.” Nick stared at the ceiling, which was nothing but a blurry gray above him. “I think Michael needs to pay her a visit.”

* * *

The apartment was in a quiet neighborhood. Michael had parked Kitt below the balcony that belonged to Dr. McBride’s apartment and was watching the darkness. No one was out there and Kitt had confirmed that they were alone.  
“Well, it’s time to get the show on the road,” he muttered.  
Kitt opened the sun-roof and Michael sighed.  
“I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered and pulled up his legs so he crouched on the driver’s seat.  
“You never unlearn it,” Kitt teased.  
Then he released the booster and Michael was catapulted toward the balcony. He landed on the third floor without a problem and quickly checked if anyone had seen him. Nothing moved. Silvana McBride was currently at the museum. Kitt had checked and her ID was still locked into the computer. Michael cracked the lock to the apartment and was in.  
“Okay, so what am I looking for?” he muttered to himself and went through the living room.  
There were three rooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a small storage walk-in cabinet. The kitchen looked spotlessly clean, the bed was made, and there was barely a trace of anyone living in here. A desk stood in what looked like McBride’s office-at-home. It was overflowing with papers, books and letters. Somewhere in the mess was a computer, but it was almost walled in by the paper mountains. Michael quickly went through the letters, but it was official mail. Bills, petitions, invitations for fundraisers, documents, offers for magazines. Nothing spectacular.  
He switched on the half-buried computer and took out a little device Nick had once given him. It enabled their partners to access personal computers.  
//Take a look around, pal. Maybe there’s something//  
Kitt confirmed and went to work while Michael proceeded to search the apartment. Nothing stood out. McBride was a very neat woman, except when it came to her office.  
//Michael, I think I found something//  
//Make a copy. I’ll be out in a sec//  
He switched off the computer and removed the device after Kitt was done, then quickly left the way he had come.  
“So, what is it?” he asked the moment the sun roof had closed above him.  
“Dr. McBride was receiving letters from an unknown sender. It looks like someone was blackmailing her.”  
The monitor showed Michael what Kitt was talking about. It was a short email.  
‘Remember New York, Silvana? I do. Here’s a sweet little reminder.’  
The picture attached told Michael everything. Apparently, Dr. McBride had had an affair that had turned into blackmail.  
“There is another mail, telling her to meet the sender.”  
“So she was blackmailed into stealing the scepter.”  
“By who?”  
“That’s what we are going to find out, pal.”  
“How?”  
“I bugged the phone lines. Whatever comes in, email or a call, we know it.”

* * *

It was a day like every other day. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too warm yet. The trees were swaying in the slight breeze that brushed over the silent grounds and touched the group of people dressed in black. Michael stood next to Devon and Bonnie, eyes riveted to the grassy ground, listening to the drone of the priest’s words with only half an ear. He looked at the white coffin with its flower ornaments and tried to get a clear grasp on his emotions. It was difficult. He had hated Jennifer Knight. She had inflicted such pain, had nearly killed Kitt on several occasions, she had even tried to take out Nick, but she had never succeeded. In the end, she had stood alone, without money, and without success.  
//I never wished her death// he thought, unconsciously using the link. //Never for real//  
He had wished her dead, yes, but not like this. There was a difference between wishful thinking and reality hitting home. He had just wanted her out of his life.  
Kitt sent a wave of confusion. Like Michael, he had suffered from what Jennifer had done to them, but Kitt’s programming made him value human life. Even hers.  
//I know, pal// Michael sighed, the priest’s words flowing past him. //It’s difficult//  
//I know she’s gone now, but…. I don’t feel anything// Kitt told him. //I tried to, but there is nothing. Not even real relief//  
No, not even relief. Michael would have wanted to see her in prison, but not in a grave. Nick had already taken everything from her in the business world, forcing her into employment at her own company, and it had left a certain perverse satisfaction roaming through Michael. Her death left him empty of such feelings.  
Nick was here as well. Somewhere farther back among the trees. Half of the Foundation’s senior members had appeared, the complete Board, friends and what family was still alive or not in prison. Nick might have been one among many, except to those who knew who he was, but he had chosen to stay where he could see all and not be seen himself. Though the term ‘seeing’ could only loosely applied to him right now. Nick was still unable to focus clearly.  
His eyes fell on a tall figure in a wheel chair. He was about his age, slightly older even, with dark brown hair shot through with gray. A full beard covered the lower half of a rather haggard face, and dark eyes gazed at the coffin. The man was dressed in a dark suit that appeared several sizes too big for him. Bony fingers lay in his lap, interlaced, as if he was praying.  
Michael thought back to the last time he had seen this man, and it was hard to imagine him like it. Back then, he had been hell-bent on owning the world, out for revenge, amassing money and firepower. He had been insane with the hunger for more, and he had paid for the insanity with his health and his life. Garth Knight was no longer a threat. He had, against all odds, survived Goliath’s crash. He had been flown to a trauma center, had been in a coma for months, had spent a year confined to a hospital bed. His spine had been severely damaged, his body broken in so many places, the doctors hadn’t given him a snowball’s chance in hell. But he had survived, only to spend the rest of his life in a prison home, paralyzed from the chest down.  
Garth was here as the last surviving family member, and under heavy guard. Not that he would attempt an escape. He simply existed and from what Michael had heard, no one was even sure he was still aware of his surroundings.  
When the priest was done, some friends and Foundation members said a few words, and then it was over. People dispersed, but Michael stayed. There was no headstone for Jennifer yet, but there was one already present.  
Wilton Knight.  
He smiled sadly, feeling Kitt’s compassion and his own sadness at his creator’s death. Wilton Knight had died of cancer, a painful death, one only postponed by his almost fervent drive to see the Knight Two Thousand completed, to see the team. Michael sometimes wished he would still be alive, though he wondered what would be different today in the same moment. Would life have been the same? Would he have stayed? He didn’t know. He only knew that this man had given him what he had today, and he was grateful for it.  
//So am I// Kitt agreed and he smiled.  
Now he was joined by his daughter, the woman who had tried to take everything from Michael and had failed.  
Someone joined him and he turned his head a fraction to see Nick. He was dressed in black, like everyone else, and the shades hid his eyes.  
“Let’s go,” he said. “We still have a case to work.”  
Michael nodded, noting the tightness in his friend’s voice. They walked back to the parking lot. The two guards were busy helping Garth into the van that had transported him here and Michael felt a strange stab of almost genuine compassion. Garth had tried to kill him repeatedly and Wilton had reconstructed his face in his son’s likeness, but no one deserved this. No one. Nick gazed at the van.  
“Garth?” he asked neutrally.  
Michael nodded silently.  
Devon was still there, talking to a Board member, as was Bonnie, who had arrived in the same limo with him. Kitt was parked next to the limo and on his other side stood Karr. Devon simply nodded at Michael and Michael smiled back, no humor in his eyes. He got into the TransAm and pulled out of the cemetery gates, closely followed by Karr. He saw a few of the guests who were still around turn, looking at the two black cars. He didn’t care. He had stopped a long time ago.

* * *

Nick had tipped the seat back and was gazing over the dash, barely visible inside the Stealth. Karr was parked next to a large, red Ford SUV, in perfect sight of the apartment entrance. Two hours ago, Silvana McBride had received an email from her blackmailer and she would have to leave soon to make the date. Karr was silent and it was a rather miffed silence. Nick’s eyes were getting better, but he wasn’t fit for this kind of thing yet. His vision was blurry and he had to rely on Karr to see beyond his own nose. Karr in turn was helping him only as much as he had to, to prevent his driver from tripping headlong over the sidewalk and end up flat on his face.  
Their partnership was currently rather strained because of the situation. There was no argueing or a dispute. It was all done in pointed silences, and they were both masters in it. Karr was perfect at projecting annoyance or anger through a pointed silence you could use to cut steel with. Nick simply either ignored him or treated him to his own silence.  
“She is leaving,” the AI now rumbled.  
“Show me.”  
Using the link, Karr transmitted the picture. Silvana McBride was an almost petite woman with dark hair, brown eyes, wearing large glasses and her hair in a bun. Nick wondered if there was such a thing as stereotypical dress codes for curators. Her clothes looked like out of a seventies catalogue and she really needed some more stylish glasses. He guessed she was in her forties and she was quite attractive, if slightly mousy in her whole behavior. For a woman in her position, she really hadn’t made much out of herself. Now she walked over to her car, a small, blue Neon, and drove off.  
“Contact Michael.”  
Karr’s engine came to life and they followed.

* * *

It was a balmy late afternoon, a perfect time to sit outside in one of the many street cafes and enjoy the autumn warmth and the orange rays of the sun playing over the city. Sun-dappled sidewalks were the playground of teenagers, young lovers and little kids with their toys. Colorful umbrellas guarded the bistro tables and people laughed and talked in the cafes and restaurants.  
Burleigh Park was one of those small parks inside the city limits, frequented by mothers with their kids, joggers, cyclists and teenagers who wanted to skate or play. The park was sectioned into several areas. One was completely off limits for skaters and preferred by the mothers and their babies, the other was purely for skating, cycling and whatever other sport because it offered a variety of paths and even obstacles. There was a section with a small forest and a natural path for joggers that led to the large lake of the park, and it was here where Silvana McBride was headed.  
At this time of the day, way past opening hours for the offices and before midday breaks, there was barely a soul running the path. McBride walked along the cool, shady way. It was beautiful, peaceful and very secluded. There was barely any traffic noise even though the street was just a few blocks away. Nick was walking along the path, looking like any other person in the park, except that he barely saw anything and his images came from Karr’s sensors. It was weird walking in a world that was seen through a computer’s eyes, but it was preferable to Karr coming forth and transmitting images taken from his optical nerves.  
That was really unsettling.  
<Knight is taking over from the next crossing path. Go left>  
And Nick did. He felt a wave of dizziness and stopped next to a tree. Damn.  
<It’s the implant. Your brain can’t work out the images it’s sending>  
<I know> he muttered, rubbing his forehead gingerly.  
<Give it a rest>  
Nick shook his head. <Not now>  
Karr rumbled something. <Then switch> he sent.  
He bit his lower lip. He hated to have Karr in the forefront. The two times they had done it in the past had left him freaked for hours. It had been before they had truly developed the link, before Michael and Kitt had linked, but nevertheless, Nick hated the feeling. It was like being forced from his mind, someone else taking over, and somehow the fear that Karr wouldn’t go back was always present.  
<Not yet> he answered.  
Karr had changed, true. He wouldn’t harm his driver, but the subconscious fear remained. He looked around and discovered Michael following their target. McBride suddenly stopped and sat down on a bench. Michael walked past her, then went right and into the forest. Nick let his eyes roam around the park and suddenly he stopped.  
<Karr, switch!> he hissed.  
Karr didn’t ask why, he simply did. For a second, Nick felt severely disoriented, then he received sharp pictures through his optical nerves, by-passing his brain and being transmitted through the implant back into it. It immediately made him feel sick, but he banished the feeling. No time!  
“Mato!” he whispered. What was she doing here? Had she followed similar leads and instincts?  
The red-headed woman was walking down the path McBride had taken and approached the curator.  
<Tell Michael Mato is here!>  
<He knows>  
Nick moved closer to the bench, Karr still directly linked into his optical nerves.  
<Knight is transmitting through the com-link> Karr informed him as Nick sat down on another bench.  
<Patch it through>  
‘All went well?’ the voice of agent Mato asked.  
‘Couldn’t have worked out better. They never suspected. I heard the fake was found out.’  
‘Sooner or later they would have discovered it. Korban is a fool, but he knows the right people.’  
‘Our buyer is pleased. Where is it?’  
Mato placed her handbag onto her knees. ‘Right here.’  
<She stole it?> Karr sounded confused.  
<Apparently. With the help of McBride. Well, more or less> Nick was still trying to work out the details.  
‘What about the Foundation agents?’  
‘Don’t worry about them. Even if they suspect something, there will be no traces.’  
‘What about the traces you left on my computer?’  
‘Nothing will hold up in a court of law, Sil.’  
She was right with that. McBride had been blackmailed, but there was never any mention as to what she was supposed to do. She could always claim it was sexual harassment and that she had wanted to deal with it herself. As for her access to the different books, she was the curator, she was responsible for the collection, so it was only natural that she looked into matters. Toudu was a small island and it had been the first time art had been shown.  
<Knight asks if we have enough>  
<Tell him yes. It’s time to end this>  
Nick rose slowly from the bench and casually walked down the path. A family feeding ducks was near the pond and someone was walking his dog further down and away from them. Michael was closing in from the path that went past the bench further up. He was taking a short-cut through the trees. As if she was sensing the danger she was in, Ann-Marie Mato suddenly looked around, discovered Michael, and reacted in a split second. She was off and running with the speed of a professional sprinter, Michael following her. McBride had jumped up as well and was about to run when Nick casually placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down onto the bench.  
“Going somewhere?” he asked conversationally.  
She gave him a wide-eyed stare and he smiled.  
“Foundation for Law and Government,” he introduced himself. “You are under arrest.”  
“You don’t have the right….!”  
“Oh, I think I do.” The smile was still there, but from Silvana’s expression, she wasn’t very reassured by it. “You can have it the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is the two of us walking out of the park, the hard way is that you try to run, I chase you, and you still end up arrested, plus a few additional bruises.”  
“That’s police brutality!” she hissed.  
“I didn’t say I was with the police, Dr. McBride. Your choice.”  
She looked around, almost like calculating her chances to run, then her shoulders fell in surrender. Nick just nodded. Good choice.

Michael was running after Ann-Marie Mato, who was a lot faster and a lot more agile than him. She was sprinting through the small forest and across the grass at the pace of a speeding bullet. Michael was trying to keep up, but his injured leg was protesting the abuse and he clenched his teeth at the pain. Mato was apparently heading for the car park.  
//Kitt, she’s coming your way. Head her off!//  
His partner acknowledged and Michael kept on pounding after the fugitive. At least she wasn’t shooting at him. They were closing in on the parking lot when Mato suddenly veered hard to the right, jumped over a low fence and ran along the sidewalk. Michael smothered a curse.  
//Kitt!//  
The familiar black shape of the TransAm left the parking lot and followed the fleeing woman as Michael jumped the fence as well, hissing in pain as the wound in his lower leg flared, and followed. People were jumping out of the way as the red-head raced past them and from her heading, Michael suspected she was making for the mall that was only a few blocks away. She would be able to lose them there. Too many people. She was just about to run across the street when Kitt shot around a corner and blocked her way, tires squealing. She didn’t even hesitate. She slid over the smooth hood and continued.  
Kitt’s surprise echoed through Michael and he smiled grimly. //She’s good//  
He slipped into the driver’s seat and followed the woman. She was weaving through the pedestrians and Kitt had to watch out for traffic, when suddenly, their target slipped into an alley. Kitt reversed, turned and headed down the street. Michael cursed as he discovered that Mato was heading up the fire escape.  
“I hate it,” he groaned.  
Kitt slid the sun-roof open and he climbed onto the roof, then jumped onto the ladder. Ann-Marie Mato was already halfway up the building.  
//Can she get down from here?//  
//There is a narrow walkway between this building and the next//  
//Just our luck!// he groaned.  
He rolled onto the roof, trying to catch his breath. He was getting too old for this! His leg hurt, his lungs were telling him their own story, and he knew he would have one hell of a cramp tomorrow. Mato was already running toward the walkway. Where was she taking the energy from?  
//Police has arrived and Nick turned Dr. McBride over. He’s heading this way//  
Michael was heading for where Mato was balancing across the bridge. As he came closer, he saw with some satisfaction that she was panting badly as well.  
“Give it up!” he yelled. “You won’t have anywhere to run!”  
She turned to look at him, halfway across the narrow metal catwalk. Sweat was rolling down her forehead and her hair was in disarray. Her dark eyes held a feverish expression.  
“You have lost,” Michael said, stopping short of the three stairs leading to the bridge. “The police know and even if you make it down the other side and out of the building, where do you want to go?”  
“I have contacts,” she panted.  
“If you can get to them. It’s over. You have lost and the scepter will be returned to its rightful owner.”  
She sneered. “I am the rightful owner!”  
“Properly stolen, hm?” Michael shook his head. “You won’t be able to sell it.”  
She laughed. “I already have, Mr. Knight, that’s the beauty of it!” She held out the bag containing the scepter, or most likely containing it. Michael tensed and Mato smiled more. “It’s me or the stupid scepter. Decide.”  
And then she dropped it. The bag fell several stories and then landed on the hard pavement. Mato turned to run, but stopped dead in her tracks. Nick was standing on the other roof, a gun in his hand, aiming at her. A smile was on his lips.  
“I’m betting on you, agent Mato.”  
The woman stared at him. “You are blind!” she snapped.  
“Oh, not to the least. You are dressed in a blue sweater, black jeans, brown Camel boots. You are wearing no jewelry. And there is dirt on your left pant leg.” The smile stayed. It suggested not to annoy him more. “This gun is aiming to incapacitate you, but maybe my sight is still just a bit off and I might hit you somewhere more fatal.”  
Mato hesitated. She was caught on a metal cat walk between two buildings and on each roof stood someone to stop her. “You won’t take me back.” And then she let herself fall.  
“No!” Michael exclaimed and rushed forward, leaning over the low wall around the roof.  
Below, not far from where the bag had landed, Ann-Marie Mato’s body had hit the pavement.

*

Nick was leaning against Karr, lightly massaging his eyes. The moment Karr had pulled out of the intense contact that had let him see, a headache had snapped back. It would be gone in a few hours, but right now, it was annoying. His sight was rather good, he had to confess, and there was barely any problem with focusing. Only fast movement still gave him a problem. Driving himself wasn’t an option. Karr wouldn’t let him anyway.  
“You okay?”  
Nick shrugged slightly. Michael knew how he was because Kitt most likely knew from Karr. “It wasn’t pleasant.”  
“I didn’t know Karr or maybe even Kitt could do something like this.”  
“It’s not something I’d recommend trying, Michael. It’s… rather disconcerting.”  
“Karr patched right into your optical nerves?”  
“In a way. It’s possible. Like a lot of things are possible when your partner is more used to your ‘hard drive’. Before you attempt it, though, I’d advise to let me and Karr know. The first time will most likely make you sick to the core.”  
“I thought you had said not to try it.”  
Nick gave him a wry smile. “And when have you ever listened to me?”  
Michael chuckled. “Last Wednesday when you said not to wash the black socks with the white shirts.”  
Nick snorted and there was an amused smile creeping over his lips.  
Michael watched the police trying to keep spectators away as the body of Ann-Marie Mato was wheeled into the coroner’s car. “So I guess it’s really over now.”  
“The moment we have a confirmation on the scepter, yes.”  
Michael groaned. “If this one’s a fake as well….”  
“Hopefully not.”  
“If it is, I give up!”  
Nick chuckled. “As if.”  
“Well, how about we leave for now? I gave the police a short statement already and they know how to reach us. I’m beat and you look like you could use a nap.”  
“Fine with me. Nice running, by the way,” Nick remarked as Michael walked over to Kitt, who had parked next to Karr.  
Michael grimaced. “I’ll be sore for days. She was good!”  
“We were better. That’s all that counts.”  
He nodded and opened the car’s door. “Probably.”  
The two cars headed away from the crime scene.

* * *

“I have to say, I’m confused,” Devon sighed and lowered the report. Four days had passed since Ann-Marie Mato’s death and Foundation matters were settling now.  
Michael gave him a broad grin. “Took me three attempts to understand it myself. To quote someone… ‘Politics is never straight-forward!’.”  
“Apparently. So how do all of these fakes and thefts fit together?”  
“Well, it all started with the arrival of the Toudu delegation and the set-up of the exhibit. Ann-Marie Mato and Silvana McBride have known each other since college. Mato studied English and Economics in the US. McBride was at the same college and they met. They stayed in contact and Mato informed her friend of the planned exhibit of the scepter and the other artifacts. They planned the theft together. Since McBride worked as the curator, she could easily switch the scepter for a fake. Voila. Nothing would have been discovered if not for the simultaneous attempt to discredit the prince. Korban had planned that little stunt, had the museum bombed, the scepter stolen and replaced by a fake he had ordered to be made.”  
“But he didn’t know that what he had stolen was another fake,” Devon concluded.  
“Exactly. He left his copy with the plan to have it immediately discovered, which is why he insisted to have it examined.”  
“And why it had a cheap stone that would crack.”  
“Yes. He had apparently planned to have Kemada return home, be discredited, then return home himself triumphantly with the scepter. Sadly enough, his original was another fake.”  
“Korban and the rest of the delegation have returned home with the real scepter and under close guard,” Devon told him. “Prince Kemada has sent his apologies for the behavior of his agent and his gratitude for solving the case.”  
“What’s he going to do about Korban?”  
“Nothing, it seems.” Devon smiled at Michael’s frown. “Politics, my dear boy. Whatever happens to his advisor next, it’s nothing we can influence. The body of agent Mato is still in the morgue at the FBI and they will release her to be transferred tomorrow.”  
“What about McBride?”  
“She is in FBI custody and will be turned over to the police and then tried. She was in for it because of the money. The letters on her computer were faked, so in case she was suspected she had a reason: someone blackmailing her. They are pinning everything they can find on her.”  
“Even the bombings?”  
“Most likely. No one knows about Korban’s involvement. No one knows about two fakes. It will be her word against fictionous facts.”  
Michael understood. “She has no chance.”  
“No. The police are currently looking into the death of William Georgios, also known as Billy the Snake, and how Osmond Bower was involved in this whole theft.”  
All would be crammed into one big case, partly a lie, but what could you do about diplomats who had already left the country? Justice concerning the bombing and the death of Jennifer Knight would be in Arif Kemada’s hands. Oddly enough, Michael was convinced that Korban would sooner or later be relieved of his position and then disappear. Kemada wasn’t stupid; he must have known about the advisor’s involvement. One day maybe, he might hear of his fate.  
“Well, it’s all wrapped up,” he said out loud. “Even if not perfectly.”  
Devon nodded slowly. “There isn’t such a thing as complete perfection, Michael. There are always flaws. Sadly, these flaws will cost a young woman her freedom.”  
“Devon, she stole the scepter and was ready to sell it. Even if she didn’t set those bombs, she was involved.”  
“The heist might have given her five to ten years. The bombing, the death, everything, will give her a life sentence.”  
Michael sighed. “Yeah, but there is nothing we can do now. It’s over.” He rose from the old, leather armchair. “I, for my part, want to forget about it all as quickly as possible.”  
“So do I,” Devon said quietly, but there was a strange look on his face.  
Michael recognized it. They wouldn’t be able to forget all of it quite as quickly as they would want to. He left the mansion, lost in thought. Kitt didn’t ask or comment, he just clicked the door open and he got in.  
Yes, it would take a while for sure.

* * *

It had started to sink in. Jennifer Knight was dead, gone out of their lives, forever. Kitt had been too preoccupied with the case and the maze of clues and lies to really give it a closer thought. Now, after it was all over and Michael was home, resting his abused leg on the couch table and watching TV, he was thinking. For the first time, really. The woman who had inflicted so much pain on him was suddenly gone and would never return. His emotions concerning this truth were conflicting. She had been the daughter of his creator, but she had never believed in the dream. She had seen a tool in Kitt, a program to be modified and sold; never a soul who wanted to live.  
But to Kitt, Jennifer had been a human being, however evil her deeds had been in Michael’s eyes. He would never have been able to do her harm and even in his most agonizing nightmares had he ever wished her dead. Unlike his driver, but Michael had never shown the tendency to turn his wishful thinking into reality. They had suffered her presence, had shown their good side, but they had kept their distance. She had been his nightmare, so why was he feeling remorse? He hadn’t killed her, but still, it hurt him.  
Tell me why it hurts! he demanded silently.  
A weight suddenly settled against him and Kitt’s sensors surprised him with readings of Nicholas MacKenzie leaning casually against the driver’s side. He didn’t say anything Kitt stayed silent.  
“She was a human being, Kitt,” Karr’s partner said into the silence of the warehouse. “It’s all right to mourn the loss of a life.”  
How did he know? Karr? But he had the normal blocks up! How could his brother know? They differed in that respect. Karr would gladly have killed Jennifer if Nick had given him free reign; he would have run her over or pushed her car off a cliff. There was no inhibition in his programming. He could argue it was the self-preservation, but he had never tried. The only time he had physically hurt her was accidentally and even then, Kitt remembered, he had felt pleased and slightly annoyed that he hadn’t killed her.  
Nick gazed at the far end of the ground floor, voice slightly thoughtful.  
“Your programming won’t let you feel what Michael and I feel, what even Karr feels, but you have it in you, Kitt. It’s what creates the conflict. The part of you influenced by Michael is relieved, your own core programming is feeling sorry.”  
“Michael feels sorry as well,” Kitt argued.  
“Yes, because neither of you really understands what has happened. She died. That’s it. Nothing spectacular, no big fight. She died in a hospital bed because of injuries neither of you inflicted. There is no guilt, no satisfaction, no relief. Just something of all of them mixed together.”  
“It’s not what you or Karr feel.”  
Nick smiled slightly. “No, but we are different from you two. Unlike you, Karr could have killed her given the chance. Just like me.”  
“Do you feel happy? Or pleased?” Kitt asked.  
Nick was silent for a while, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Yes and no. I’m glad it’s over, she’s gone. No more threats, no more under-handed sneak attacks. It might surprise you, though, that I don’t feel pleased by her death.”  
“Why?”  
“Because it wasn’t me pulling the trigger, Kitt.”  
Kitt winced slightly. Like Michael, he easily forgot that part of Nick was still a mirror of his past. He would never be able to change in that regard, but he had acquired a more human side.  
“Would you have done it?”  
“In time, maybe. When everything would have been over; when Michael’s contract with the Foundation had run out. When nothing of what I did could have reflected back on you two.”  
Kitt digested it. So they were Nick’s inhibitor for those kind of things? And maybe Karr’s? In a way, it pleased him that Nick wouldn’t take them down with him, but it was oddly frightening.  
“I know it’s hard for you to understand, Kitt. But I’m not Michael and I can never be him, and neither can Karr ever be like you. We are different, we view things differently, we solve cases differently, we have different interpretations of life. I can tell you only this much, it is okay to mourn her death. She was a human being, despite all she has done; she deserved life. I’d have preferred her to see the inside of a prison before her death, but it shouldn’t have been. Don’t think your inability to feel positive about Jennifer Knight’s death is a flaw.” He smiled gently. “It’s actually a very good side of you.”  
“Thank you,” Kitt replied, feeling oddly touched.  
Nick’s smile stayed and he pushed away from the warm surface of the TransAm.  
“And Nick?”  
“Yes?”  
“You may be right that you and Michael are different, but it wouldn’t work any other way.”  
Nick gave the red scanner light an oddly surprised look. Then he lifted one corner of his mouth into a smile and walked up the stairs.

Michael looked up from the couch, a popcorn bowl balanced on his stomach. Nick gave him a questioning look and received a smile.  
“You should go into computer psychiatry. You are good.”  
Nick shrugged. “Not really, no. I knew he’d have a problem with it. It was in the making ever since Jennifer’s death was announced.”  
“You don’t have one; a problem, I mean.”  
Another shrug. “You know what I felt, or didn’t feel, Michael. I can’t lie about it and I won’t.”  
“Did you feel something when Wilton Knight  
died?”  
That got him a sharp look. Michael smiled disarmingly.  
“Just checking for human emotions.”  
“They were different people, so my feelings were different. I respected Knight. I appreciated what he had done for me. For her, there is nothing to feel.”  
Michael thoughtfully played with a popped corn. “I still don’t know what to feel, Nick. It’s … difficult.”  
“No one claimed it was easy.”  
“Yeah, but… she’s dead. She can’t hurt us anymore. I should be pleased, but I’m just feeling…. slightly sad and somehow disappointed.”  
Nick nodded. He sat down on the couch chair and kicked up his feet on the table. “It’s over, but you haven’t drawn the finish line. It’ll take time.” He smiled as he leaned over to grab some of the popcorn. “And we have time.”  
So much was true. They had time and there was no pressure any more. The Foundation left them alone, except when they took on cases, and they had friends in the most unlikeliest places. It felt good, secure, and safe. Michael turned back to the TV, part of him still trying to mourn, but the other, the much larger part, was going on with life.


End file.
